Exiled
by SgtMac
Summary: To pay for her crimes, Regina accepts exile from Storybrooke. Five years later, on Henry's 16th birthday, Henry and Emma find her. Post QoH. SQ. Semi-graphic.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: A quick A/U piece. This takes place after QoH - but loosely so. Probably a three-parter.**

**Mild language and SQ sexual situations here-in.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Her beautiful little boy is sixteen years old today.

Almost a man.

Curled up on the couch in the incredibly small loft that she owns in the heart of Boston, she allows her mind to wander, allows herself to wonder what he looks like. She smiles as she imagines him to be tall and handsome, a lop-sided slightly devilish grin perfectly complimenting his constantly messy brown hair. If she really tries, she can hear his laughter, certainly deeper in sound than it'd been the last time she'd heard it, but in her mind, still youthful and innocent.

Still Henry Mills.

Or is it Swan now?

Yes, probably it probably is Swan now, she thinks to herself. The pain she feels at this is muted after so many years, but it's still there nonetheless.

It still hurts to have lost her son. To have left him behind.

It still rips at her soul to have gone almost five years without feeling his arms around her or without running her fingers through his hair.

Five years without hearing him call her "mom".

She wonders if he's thinking of her today.

Probably not.

It's been five years since she'd last seen him. Five years since she'd accepted her punishment and walked away from him.

Walked away from them.

Most of the time, she's able to keep from dwelling on the loved ones (their number is small, but still more than one) that she'd left behind. Of course, living here in this loft doesn't help a bit. It's a constant reminder – an omnipresent jabbed thumb into the unhealed wound that is her solitude – of them.

She knows that never should have convinced the landlord to sell her this building. And even once she had, she should have kept things strictly professional. She should have simply renovated the building and put it back on the market. She certainly never should have moved into it herself. But once the decision to do so had been made, she absolutely never should have chosen to live in this particular unit, one far smaller than the one reserved for owners.

But she had moved in to this little unit, and though she knows damned good and well that she should have left this loft a long time ago, she still hasn't.

She supposes that she's not going anywhere any time soon.

It's almost funny, this weird little situation that she of all people is in. If her neighbors (tenants) knew who she really was…well they'd think her crazy. And even if they did believe, they'd just see her as everyone from her own world had.

As the monster she really is.

So they don't know. They'll never know.

Better for everyone including herself.

To the world outside of Storybrooke, Maine, she's not the Evil Queen. Here, she's Gina Mills. She probably should have altered her name more in order to evade the people finding abilities of Miss Swan, but she'd compensated by throwing up several identification roadblocks. On paper, Gina Mills is in her late forties with blonde hair and green eyes (when someone – and that someone is almost always a bartender trying to be flirty and conversational - asks about her hair and eyes when they see her license, she simply laughs and calls those things a youthful stage that she has since grown out of). Gina is also technically based out of New York instead of Boston, and if you were to dig a little bit deeper (as a stubborn Emma is wont to do), it would appear as though Mrs. Mills has been married a couple times over. The first ended in death, the second divorce.

All of which equates to a somewhat clever new personality that she'd created with the help of a greasy wanna-be thug named Judo who had been all too happy to assist her thanks to her willingness to keep handing him hundred dollars bills all while also allowing him to look – but no, never touch – at her generous cleavage. He's a useful boy to have around. A Sydney without the simpering and creepy obsessional tendencies.

The people in the building she owns know her as the quiet – though occasionally forceful about keeping things peaceful, controlled and orderly - woman who mostly keeps to herself unless she's absolutely forced to do otherwise. She's no trouble, and no concern. Aside from brief interludes in the hallway from time to time, no one pays her any attention, and perhaps that's best for everyone.

Most days, she's okay with this life. It's better than death (she doesn't fear the actual act of dying, she's afraid of what's to come afterwards), and really, when she allows herself to actually self-reflect (there's been a good amount of time for that), she thinks that perhaps this was the most suiting punishment of all.

The silence and loss of having been kicked out of Storybrooke.

Exiled, Snow had called it.

It's truly poetic in a devastating manner.

She pours herself a tumbler of scotch, ignoring the early time showing on the simple circular clock on the wall. Yes, it's only around noon, and therefore way too early to actually be drinking, but today of all days; she can allow this bit of vice. She remains a more sophisticated woman than this – she still prefers the deep flavors of red wine to the harshness of hard liquor – but right now, her emotions are as turbulent as the ocean after an especially volatile storm.

Thankfully, even without a magic bracelet upon her wrist, ever since she'd left Storybrooke, magic has been beyond her grasp.

But that was part of why they'd done what they'd done.

Protection for them and punishment for her.

That'd they been able to wipe away her memory, pretend as though she'd never existed, well that'd just been an added bonus.

She hopes it'd worked. She hopes Henry is safe and happy.

Try as she might, though she can't hope the same for many of the others back in that little town that she'd created practically with her bare hands. All of those simple fools and useful idiots had been far too happy to cast judgment on her. They'd all been a bit too gleeful about stripping away what little family she'd had left. And they'd done so with the smug righteousness of "good" at their backs.

All of them except for her.

Emma had fought for her.

For all the good it'd done.

* * *

_Five years earlier._

_She finds it vaguely interesting that they would choose the middle of town to conduct this little trial of theirs. It's so old world, so right out of a black and white/good and evil style storybook. That they don't seem to understand just how ridiculously ironic it is to try the Evil Queen for her crimes in the heart of the very city that she'd so painstakingly built and nurtured, well that's just sad._

"_This is wrong," Emma declares, her long blonde hand whipping around in the cold Maine air. Strands of it blow into her reddened eyes, and she brushes them away almost violently. She's angry, practically seething, and if this were a different situation, Regina's fairly certain that she'd find the blonde woman absurdly attractive right now. So much so that if they weren't standing in front of much of this damned town, well maybe they'd be doing something else entirely._

_Something wonderful._

_This is exactly the opposite of that._

"_It's our way, Emma," James tells his furious daughter, his voice almost absurdly soft. Regina thinks that she can hear just a hint of sorrow in his tone. She supposes that maybe the time she and Charming had spent together trying to bring Emma and Snow home from the old world had made something of a difference in the way he sees her. No longer just as the Evil Queen._

_As something more, maybe. Something human._

_It matters, she thinks, just not enough to stop this._

"_We're not in your world," Emma reminds him. She's standing between the former queen and the crowd and her parents, an stretched arm out as if to try to protect the brunette from anyone who might be stupid enough to charge forward. Her service pistol is in her hand, and Regina finds herself smiling when the moon cooperates enough to gleam almost majestically off of the badge at her hip._

"_No, we're not," a voice in the back of the crowd calls out. "Because of her."_

"_Snow was almost killed because of her," another person yells. _

"_You could have died," Ruby reminds her, but there's an odd look like in her eyes, like she'd rather be anywhere but here. Like maybe she thinks that one day this might be she who finds herself having to answer to an angry crowd._

"_But we didn't. Regina saved us," Emma retorts as she spins around, her eyes blazing with fury. "My mother and I wouldn't be here at all if not for her."_

"_Your lives never would have been in danger if not for her," James reminds her. He's standing with Snow, at the head of the crowd, almost as though he's holding some kind of court. It's clear to everyone that the Charmings have assumed their crowns again. If not legally or realistically, in terms of respect at least. _

_Emma shakes her head, hair again whipping around. "No. This is wrong." It's all she has available to her, these simple words. They're woefully inadequate and she knows it. She turns her body slightly, casting furious and pained green eyes back at the woman standing behind her._

_It's almost like she's asking Regina to do something._

_She's not. Not really._

_But there's a kind of desperation to her gaze. A silent plea._

_Like she's begging Regina to tell her that this isn't really happening._

_But it is, and so Regina just smiles slightly. The expression doesn't meet her dark eyes, though. How could it? She knows how this is about to go down. Has always known. The idea that she could have escaped punishment for her many crimes has always been more than a little bit absurd even to her. And now, it all makes so much more sense. Her judgment had simply been delayed thanks to Snow and Emma's absence. Delayed, not forgotten._

_Which means that now that they're back, the people of this damned town want their king and queen to sentence the woman responsible for all of their pain._

_Never mind that most of their pain is actually imagined or perceived through the lens of idealism and storybook optimism. Never mind that Storybrooke has offered many of these people a better life than they ever could have had in a world run by monarchs – benevolent or otherwise._

_In their minds, they've been separated from their perfect happy endings._

_Never mind that even back in the old world, perfect happy endings had been as rare as pixie dust. Given only to a precious few, cherished by even fewer._

_She is their hated enemy, their perfect almost cookie cutter villain. That Rumplestiltskin has played a part in all of this is lost on them. He's the master painter who doesn't sign his finished portraits, just patiently waits around to collect the money once the masterpiece has finally sold._

_In this case, the masterpiece was the curse, and it sold when Emma broke it. She had merely been the paintbrush used to throw colors upon the canvas._

_She has no more value to him now, and no one – aside from Emma and perhaps Snow and Charming if they're bright enough to think about it - realizes that it was he that commissioned the original portrait. She could tell everyone, scream it aloud, but it wouldn't change her fate a bit and so she holds her tongue. _

_Perhaps there will come a time for them to settle their books. Perhaps not._

_This is about her right now, though, not him. They want her blood, not his._

_She won't defend herself from these righteously angry people. She's guilty of the many crimes that they've accused her of (and many more that they don't know about and never will), and therefore sees no value in pretending otherwise. _

_She won't throw herself at their mercy, either, though. They're guilty of crimes, too, and really, this is all just a grand bit of theatre and she has no interest in playing along so that they can justify their fury and vengeance. She wants them to know what they're about to do, wants them to feel the burden of their actions as she has always felt the burden of hers._

_She wants them to wake up in the middle of the night thinking about what they've done. She wants them to wonder if they should have done something different._

_It only seems fair. It only seems right._

_Emma shakes her head again. "I won't let you kill her," she states, her voice shakier than her determination. Regina has no doubt that this woman will stand in front of her no matter what. It fills her with something warm and thick._

_Something that feels a lot like love._

_She rather wishes she'd never met Emma Swan._

_And yet she knows damned well that she'll be thankful every day for the rest of her life (however short or long it be) that she had. _

"_Emma," she whispers, but she has no idea what she'll say next._

"_No," the blonde answers. "This isn't going to happen like this."_

"_Then maybe there's another way," Snow says softly. Her eyes connect with Regina's and for a moment, history plays out in front of them as though it's on a big screen. And for once, there's no anger present. Just sadness and pain._

"_What other way?" Regina asks, and it's the first thing she's said (beyond Emma's name) since she was dragged out into the street by Whale and Grumpy and a host of other disgruntled and enraged storybook characters. She glances down at the silver bracelet that she's wearing (courtesy of the fairies who are trying to reclaim their own place in the hierarchy of this town), and smiles grimly as it shimmers and lightly glows with magical energy. _

_The bracelet, which had been snapped onto her wrist before she'd realized what had been happening (she'd been napping on her couch when they'd stormed her house) is made from enchanted metal forged by the small bits of pixie dust that had been found in the corners of the mine. It does but one thing – it dampens and controls her magical abilities. Instead of allowing her to throw the magic outwards, it forces her to constantly recirculate the energy within herself. Slightly painful to the wearer of the bracelet, but terribly effective in accomplishing it's one goal: keeping her from being able to light these idiots up._

_Not that she would. It simply wouldn't accomplish anything anymore._

_She's so terribly tired and so terribly sick of fighting, and no matter what she does, no matter how much she tries to delay the inevitable, this day will always come for her eventually. Better it be now than later, she thinks grimly._

_Now before it becomes so much harder for everyone. _

_Her eyes fall upon Emma's as she thinks this, and she smiles slightly._

"_Exile," comes the response from Snow. This word is met with the shocked murmurings of the crowd. Someone around the back of the crowd screams for death, but almost everyone else seems enthralled, fascinated by what's occurring here. Regina's head snaps up and she stares at Snow for a long moment, studying the younger woman's eyes, wondering about her motivations._

_Why, she wants to ask. Why would you permit this? Why show mercy now?_

"_What does that mean?" Emma demands after a long moment of nearly suffocating silence. "What does exile actually mean?"_

"_It means, dear," Regina states, using every bit of control she has to keep her voice calm and even, "That in exchange for allowing me to live my life to its natural end, I would leave this town and never return. Isn't that right, Snow?"_

"_No!" Emma says immediately._

_She's ignored. This conversation is strictly between Regina and Snow now, two monarchs negotiating a truce without a possible winner. _

"_It is," Snow agrees._

"_What about Henry?" the brunette asks. She's suddenly quite thankful for whomever it was who'd decided that Henry shouldn't be here for this. He's hanging out with a few children from school, acting like a little boy for once. Blissfully unaware of the fact that one way or another, he's about to lose the mother who'd raised him for the first ten – almost eleven – years of his life._

"_He stays here with Emma."_

"_So then I lose my son." It's a declaration of understanding, and if anyone hears the small break in the former queen's voice, well then they have great ears._

"_Yes," Snow replies, and at least has the courtesy of looking a bit queasy and perhaps even a bit conflicted about the offer she's put on the table. _

"_No," Emma says again. She looks at Charming, begging him to step in. He shakes his head. He can't. And even if he could, he probably wouldn't._

"_So those are my choices then?" Regina queries. "Death or exile?"_

_Snow meets her eyes, confirms with a slow blink of her eyes. "There has to be justice," she tells her former stepmother, like it should explain everything._

_And perhaps it does. They may be in a little town in Maine, but these people now recall their lives in the old world. They remember when justice was handled swiftly, if not always fairly. The trials were quick and efficient and the blood of the guilty always seemed to provide closure to the injured. At least in theory._

"_Of course," Regina nods. "Am I at least allowed the night to decide my fate?" She holds up her hand, shaking the bracelet. "I'm a threat to no one but myself."_

"_One night," Snow agrees. "But come six in the morning, Regina, your decision needs to be made. This has to be over."_

"_It will be." She considers biting off a snide "Your Majesty", but doesn't have the heart for it. It would be derision simply for the sake of such, and it seems to her that the time for that has long since come and gone. She turns towards Emma and steeling herself, says, "Sheriff, I place myself into your custody." _

"_No, not her," Whale sneers, taking a step forward. "She'll just let her go."_

"_And where would I go, you insufferable moron?" Regina snaps. Apparently she still has some anger within her. Especially for this man who'd had a hand in her youthful downfall. Apparently, he's forgotten his role in that charade._

_She thinks that one way or another, she'll be glad to be rid of the righteousness of the people of this damned town._

"_What if Sheriff Swan takes the bracelet off?" he asks the crowd. He's trying to rally them again, trying to get them to deal with this in their own way. Perhaps he thinks vengeance born of fire and blood will clean his dirtied slate._

_It won't. Regina knows this all too well._

"_Enough," Snow calls out. She holds up her hand to silence the volatile crowd, and for a moment, both Regina and Emma are taken by the quiet leadership of the woman. She's a natural at this. "My daughter will do her duty."_

_Emma starts to speak, starts to protest, but Regina interrupts her with a shake of her head. "Yes, she will," the brunette states, just as regal in her own way. She offers Emma a small sad smile, and then extends her wrists to the blonde again._

* * *

"Welcome to Boston, kid," Emma Swan says with a grin big enough to be called shit-eating if it wasn't quite so sincere and heartfelt. She stretches an arm out as if to show him the entire city in one easy sweeping motion.

Ridiculous, of course, but it makes Henry laugh, the sound deep and full.

"I have been here before," her sixteen-year-old son reminds her as he pulls his heavy pea coat tighter around his lean frame. He's taller than her by a good four inches now, strong and well built. He's lost most of the sharpness in his face, but his smile still has a way of dominating his cheeks, and making his eyes twinkle.

"Yeah," Emma nods, a bit thoughtful. She wonders again if this had actually been a good idea, to bring them both back to this city.

To where it all began.

But he'd asked for tickets to the Patriots game, and when your kid turns sixteen and what he wants most is to spend a day at the field with you, well you say yes.

And then you buy the best damned tickets you can find.

Funny how he'd ended up taking a liking to football, she thinks to herself as wind snaps at her cheeks and flakes of snow flitter through the cool air. His liking for the sport is due to her influence, she knows, but it's still interesting since he'd spent the first ten years of his life more the geek than the jock. He's still mostly just the nerdy kid with royal blood running through his veins, but he's picked up an interesting almost graceful kind of athleticism along the way as well.

And he has quite the thing for watching wide-outs who take bad routes to the ball get crunched by the beer-bellied defensive player.

At first, she'd again assumed that to be her influence because Regina had never shown the least bit of interest in sports, especially ones as rough and barbaric as football (she'd always wondered what the former queen would have thought of rugby). After awhile, though, she'd come to notice how intensely Henry had watched the strategic part of the game. She'd noticed how he'd mapped out every play logically in his brain. And how'd he delighted in seeing a player who failed to carry out his given task pay the rather brutal price for such failure.

She'd never mentioned this to Henry, never called it out, but deep down, she'd found herself pleased to see that some of Regina had stuck around in him.

There are other things, too, of course. For instance, Emma's never been much of a reader (unless you count trashy ten cent novels or magazines read in the check-out line), but Henry is voracious. That his nightmare – and subsequent loss - had begun with a book hasn't altered his appetite for the written word.

Perhaps the only change is that he reads less about stalwart perfect heroes, and more about redemption and fallen angels. When Emma asks about this, he always shrugs his shoulders as if that's an answer. It's the only one she gets.

It's been five years since the morning she'd woken up alone in bed. Five years since she'd had to sit Henry down and tell him that Regina had left town.

A bit more than five years since she and Henry had first met here in Boston.

He's sixteen now, no longer the wide-eyed imaginative ten-year-old boy who'd happened to be right about his mother being the Evil Queen.

Now, she's just the mom he misses terribly, but never speaks of. He carries a picture of Regina in his wallet, and this blanket that he'd loved as a child still covers his bed even now. It's still his favorite. Still as much a part of him as her childhood blanket with her name sewn into it is a part of her.

It's guilt and it's remorse and it's sadness, and try as she might, there's nothing Emma can do to make these things better because she feels all of them as well.

Still, today is his day, and she won't let the past bring either of them down. So she smiles again and says, "I have an idea."

He tilts his head and his expression is bemused and a bit wary, and for a moment, she's dead certain that he's Regina's biological son and not her own.

"We have three hours until game. How about you and I go check out my old pad."

"Your old pad?" he asks, eyebrow lifted. She wonders if he's about to snap off something like, "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, Miss Swan," but after a moment, he simply nods his head. "You mean your old loft. Yeah, okay."

"Henry," she says softly, wishing he was short enough for her to be able to kneel down to look him in the eyes. Instead, smiling a bit, she lifts herself up on her toes. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to. I know it brings back…"

"Memories," he finishes. Then he shrugs his shoulders. "We were all just playing a part. You're the Savior. She was the Evil Queen. You were always meant to come to town. One way or another, I was always going to end up at your door."

She hates the fatalistic note she hears, but she's gotten somewhat used to it. It's how he handles the loss of his adopted mother, how he copes and rationalizes. How he keeps from letting his anger and hurt overwhelm him.

How he deals with the fact that even things had kind of sort of worked out for them, they'd all pretty much been played from day one.

She thinks that maybe he's learned to deal with that a lot better than she has.

"We don't have to go," she says again. "We can go get lunch instead. I know a great little sandwich –"

"No, we should go. I…I want to. I want to go."

"Why?"

"I want to remember her today," he answers.

"But it doesn't have to be there," she presses.

"There's where I found you."

"I know and every day, kid, I'm thankful for that, but…"

"I don't regret finding you, Mom. I regret losing her." And then he laughs.

"What?"

"You jumped when I called you 'mom'. You still do that sometimes."

"Sorry. I love it, honestly."

"I know. And I know you're thinking about her, too. I don't think she'd be upset about me calling you 'mom' anymore. I think she'd be okay with it."

"I hope so."

"Look, I want to go, but if you don't want to…"

"No. I think you're right. I think we both should," she cuts in.

"Closure?" he asks, eyebrow up.

"Sure," she nods. "Closure."

It's a lie, though, and they both know it.

There are some things you can reasonably manage to put away, some things you can with some effort find a way to live without even though you don't want to.

And then there are some things that no matter what you try to do, no matter how hard you fight and struggle, you'll never get over. Not really anyway.

This is one of those things.

* * *

_Five Years Earlier._

_She sits next to his bed until he falls asleep. _

_He has no idea what's happening or why his mother seems so terribly sad (she's always been a little sad, but even he can tell that this is somehow more than that), but he's oddly comforted to have her at his side tonight. It's where she should be, he thinks, even though he doesn't understand why he feels this way. And when she whispers, "I love you so much, my sweet perfect boy," into his ear just before he drops off, he feels something like a sickening clenching in the middle of his chest. His heart actually really hurts, and he doesn't understand this, either._

_Thankfully, ten-year-old boys have the luxury of sleep where adults might not._

_When she finally – reluctantly - leaves his side, there are tears on her cheeks._

* * *

_Emma looks up towards the second floor of the house again._

_A glance at her watch and she realizes that Regina has been upstairs with Henry for over two hours. At first, the former queen had been simply reading to her son. Something from Shakespeare. When Emma had finally left the room, unable to handle the raw emotion emanating off of the older woman, Regina had been asking him about his day and talking to him about his plans for the week ahead._

_It'd all been too normal._

_Like the Sword of Damocles hadn't been hanging over her head._

_Emma waits downstairs now, impatient and frustrated. Seconds away from an explosion that she thinks could tear this whole town apart. She waits for Regina to come out of their sons' bedroom. Waits for the brunette to descend the stairs. _

_And while she waits, she paces. Back and forth._

_Anxious, scared and very much wishing that she could hit something._

"_You look like you need a drink, my dear," the silky voice says, and Emma jerks her head up to see Regina standing at the foot of the stairs, looking impeccable as always. Looking like she hasn't a concern in the world._

_Like she doesn't have the night to decide whether to die or run._

"_I do," Emma agrees as she runs a hand through her messy blonde hair. _

"_Seems like a good evening for something hard," Regina suggests, and then motions over to where a decanter of bourbon sits. She gathers up two crystal tumblers, fills them to the brim with bourbon, and then offers one to Emma with a bit of a wry knowing smile. "Drink hearty," she suggests._

"_Don't you think maybe we should keep a clear mind?" Emma counters._

"_Believe me, Sheriff, making life and death decisions sober isn't any better than making those same choices while drunk. I've tried both. I think – especially for decisions such as this one - I prefer the less stressed out approach."_

"_Yeah, me, too," Emma agrees. "But you know, that probably explains a lot about the both of us." She tries to soften the words with a small smile._

_Regina laughs. "Point taken. Drink. And sit down. No value in destroying these floors with your boots. You'll have plenty of time for that later."_

"_Regina…"_

"_Either way we go, Emma, this is my last night in this house."_

"_It doesn't have to be. I can talk to them. I can make them understand."_

"_No, you can't."_

"_Yes…"_

"_Listen to me. I don't want to spend tonight worrying about the things that can't be changed. I wanted to spend tonight with him and now, I want to spend it with you." She offers Emma a watery smile. "I never thought I'd say that."_

"_Neither did I."_

"_Mm. Life is funny, isn't it?"_

"_Funny isn't the word I'd use."_

"_Perhaps not," Regina agrees, her voice low and rumbling. She takes a healthy sip from her tumbler, enjoying the burn of the alcohol._

_Emma shakes her head, as frustrated by Regina's calm as she is the overall situation. "This is insane. This is wrong."_

"_So very much is."_

"_I'm expected to just stand outside and let them kill you. Or let you leave."_

"_Yes. That's exactly what you're expected to do. And exactly what you will do."_

"_No. I can't. I won't."_

"_You can and you will and you must. For Henry and for your family."_

"_Fuck that." _

"_Emma…"_

_The blonde shakes her head again, this time harder, which causes her blonde mane to whip around. "We'll come with you. We'll leave together. That's still exile, right?" She moves close to Regina, into the same personal bubble._

"_You would do that for me?" Regina asks, tilting her head._

"_In a heartbeat. All of this is still madness to me. I understand it…kind of…but Charming and Snow, they're good friends, but they're not my parents yet. You and Henry, you're my family," Emma insists. "You're who I want to be with."_

"_I'm merely your lover, dear," Regina corrects. "And though you may not believe it yet, there will come a time when you regret such."_

"_I'm willing to take my chances."_

_Regina simply nods her head. She finishes off her glass of bourbon, and then puts it on the table. "Come to bed."_

"_That's not an answer."_

"_I need to think," Regina replies._

"_And you can do that while I'm…"_

_The brunette laughs at this. "Of course not, but I find that I think much better afterwards." She extends a hand. "Please," she says simply._

"_Why do I feel like this is a last supper?"_

_Regina lifts an eyebrow. "Never really considered myself food."_

"_You know what I mean."_

"_I suppose I do." She shrugs slightly. "Just…come with me."_

"_Upstairs or…"_

"_For now…just upstairs. Everything will work out as it should."_

"_You're scaring me, you know that, right? You're so calm about all of this."_

"_Only on the outside, dear." She wiggles her fingers in invitation. _

_Slowly, almost reluctantly, Emma takes her hand._

* * *

_It's never been like this before._

_They've come together dozens of times by now – if not far more than that. At first, they'd bedded down due to anger and mutual disgust/lust with each other. Slowly, their unions had evolved into a grudging understanding of their similarities, and then at some point or another, they'd even come to see each other as actual partners in well…whatever their relationship had become. _

_From there, real feelings had come into the picture and everything had gotten a little bit more intense, and a little more…vibrant and explosive._

_This is all of those things and none of them._

_This is slow and emotional. This is terrifying and exhilarating._

_This is perfect and horrible all at once._

_Each touch, each kiss, each whimper._

_Emma's on top this time, and for once, they're not jockeying for position or power. For once, the former queen allows her lover to take charge._

_She closes her eyes as lips trail across her neck and then down her chest. She cries out as hands map each of her curves and swells before fingers glide over her thighs and then slide within her. She gasps her lover's name as her vision goes bright white and her body loses all ability to move._

_She almost says words that she knows will damn them both._

_Emma does says them._

_It's what makes Regina make the choice she does._

* * *

The first thing Emma notices when they reach the building that had once housed her loft is that it's no longer the cheap seats that it had once been. It's been up-scaled considerably, remodeled dramatically.

All the way down to the high-tech security door that has been put in so as to keep outsiders from coming in uninvited. Emma wonders what would have been of her life had this door been in place five – almost six – years ago.

Still, door or not, it's a piece of cake for she and her sixteen year old son to get into. They merely wait for an older woman carrying too many groceries to come by, and then Henry – wearing a big smile – offers to hold the door open for her.

He's tall and handsome, but he's still a geeky looking kid, and the old lady simply smiles and says thank you as she enters past him, never noticing Emma slipping in behind her. Never noticing how when the door shuts, Henry is inside as well.

The wait for the next elevator after the old lady disappears, and then they take it up to the third floor. To where Emma's loft is.

And then that's when they see her.

That's when they see Regina. Older, less regal and a bit small, but still her.

She's standing in front of the door – which still has so much absurdity written across it in elegant swoops and print – unlocking it with shaky unsteady hands.

After a moment of this, the keys drop from her hands, and for a few seconds, the former queen just sits kneeled on the ground, a hand in her dark brown hair.

It's Henry who breaks first. Henry who can't keep his emotions controlled.

It's Henry who calls out for her.

"Mom," he whispers, his voice like thunder in the silent hallway.

Her head snaps around, and her eyes widen. Even five years and at least a foot of growth later, she'd know her son anywhere.

"Henry."

His face explodes into an epic smile and then he's rushing her, forgetting his age and his size completely. She just spreads her arms and allows him to slam into her frame. Her hands jut out and for a moment, fail to find anything to grab at, and then suddenly, they're around him and pressing into the fabric of heavy coat.

"Henry," she says again.

"I'm here, Mom," he tells her. "I'm here."

It's the most open display of emotion that Emma has ever seen from either Regina or Henry. And it only gets more so when both mother and son start crying against each other, both of their tears silent but wracking in their intensity.

Emma watches from a small distance away. Her heart is pounding in her chest, and she's certain that everyone in the city can hear it.

She doesn't care.

All she cares about are the two people in front of her.

Two people she doesn't plan to ever let go of again.

**TBC…**


	2. Chapter 2

Minor note: there be some salty language within.

* * *

_The former queen lies quietly – so very quietly - beside her lover in the bed, listening to the sound of the blonde's calm breathing, all the while attempting to memorize the feel of the sheriff's arms wrapped securely around her. Emma has never been what one would call a restful sleeper, but right now, she's about as deep down as you can get thanks to being utterly and completely exhausted - both mentally and physically. Right now, post their rather emotional lovemaking, Emma Swan is the very definition of dead to the world._

_Which makes what Regina has to do right now both easier and harder. _

"_Emma," she whispers, though she's fairly certain that she'll receive no response from the heavily slumbering blonde. Prior experience has taught her that Emma tends to crash almost absurdly hard after sex anyway, but this is far more than that. Emma has been on edge for the last several days; wary of an attack that had indeed come the very moment that the sheriff had stepped away._

_Not that she'd actually needed Emma to defend her. Until the bracelet had been snapped onto her wrist, she'd had her full arsenal of magic available to her to use had she wanted to use it. She wonders if those simple idiots will ever realize that she'd refrained from attacking, wonders if it'll ever occur to them that she hadn't lifted a hand against them even when she'd known that they'd be coming for her._

_Even when she'd known exactly what they had intended to do to her._

_She shivers a bit at this. Had they been in the old world, chances are that she would have been severely harmed before she'd been dragged into the middle of town. Back there, a little bit of violence against the so-called bad guys was something people tended to turn a blind eye to. Here, at least, they're a bit more restrained, a bit more aware of the disgusting hypocrisy of their actions._

_But just a bit. _

_Ultimately, her decision to stand down from any further violence had been partially due to the influences of Henry and Emma, but mostly, she'd held off because she'd known that lighting one or two of them up (or turning Whale into a rat like she'd seriously considered doing) would have only delayed the inevitable._

_And led to her certain death by execution. A horrifying thought, especially when she considers how Emma would have been forced to watch her be killed – likely thanks to a rope around her neck (there are no guillotines in Storybrooke that she's aware of, but she supposes one could have been built for this). Especially when she realizes that Henry would have been told of it and would have had to live with the knowledge of it. Whatever her sons' feelings for her – and they remain at least someone troubled and uncertain, she's sure – she believes that he never would have wanted that for her. She believes (or at least chooses to believe because she wants to, especially now and in these last few moments of sharing a house with him) that he desires for her to have a chance at redemption. _

_Now, at least she has the opportunity for that. Now she has the chance to live._

_It's a cruel joke, of course, because she of all people knows that living in exile isn't living at all. Exile is what kings and queens offer to their most "cherished" of subjects when they want to hurt them worse than death. It's the loss of family and everything that means anything. It's the absence of everything familiar. _

_It's a promise – and indeed, guarantee - of a life of loneliness._

_Well, she thinks with something of a defiant sneer, she'd led such a life before; she can certainly do it again. One somewhat frowning glance back at Emma's sleeping form (she's beautiful like this, quiet and serene, not fighting the world for a few minutes) and she's not quite so sure about that._

_The former queen's natural inclination right now is to be selfish. It'd be so very easy to take Emma up on her offer. It'd be truly wonderful to run away with the blonde sheriff and their son. Maybe even romantic in a weird kind of way._

_It would also be a horrible mistake, and one that she's quite certain that Emma would grow to despise her for. The sheriff might never say the words aloud, but then she wouldn't need to. It'd be the look in her green eyes, the doubts that would be shining there. The wonder about whether or not she'd made the right choice in walking away from her newly discovered long wished for family._

_Regina wants to laugh and not care about these things. A few months earlier, she wouldn't have. She would have said to hell with Snow and Charming and all of the others. She would have gladly accepted Emma by her side even if the blonde was unhappy deep down. _

_Because six months ago, it wouldn't have been about Emma._

_Today, it is, and this somewhat cold understanding shakes Regina more than she cares to admit. She wonders when it was that she allowed herself to put someone else's happiness before her own again. She wonders when it was that she came to actually feel the things that she does for the blonde lying next to her._

_Hardly matters, though. All that does is that she does, in fact, feel these things._

_The words she can't say, the ones Emma can, they're true._

_And they are what push her off the mattress. They are what make her gaze at her lover with tears in her eyes. She mouths the words she can't say aloud, hoping that doing so will make them easier to say. Hoping that the silence of the sentiment will make it easier to walk away. She's lying to herself once again._

_Walking away from this woman will never be easy, and that scares her just enough to make her do exactly that. She turns slowly, takes a deep breath, and then exits her bedroom, likely for the very last time, she thinks._

_She descends the stairs as quietly as possible, and enters her den. Sitting behind her desk, her eyes flitter against the clock on the wall. It's just after two in the morning. A decision is due to Snow in less than four hours, but the truth is that her once step-daughter will have it long before then._

_There are just a few things that the former queen has to do first._

_She pulls out a piece of paper, stares at it for a long moment, and then leans in to write upon it._

_It shouldn't be so hard, she thinks, to pen a simple goodbye._

_It is._

* * *

It's the sound of the door across the hallway opening that breaks up the emotional reunion between mother and son. "Mrs. Mills," the old man in three-oh-five growls as he sticks his head out, eyeing the scene unfolding in front of him with a heavy degree of suspicion. "Everything all right out here?"

Regina looks up, her expression altering slightly, growing just a little bit cooler. When she speaks, Emma thinks she hears just a little bit of the mayor of Storybrooke break through. "Everything is fine, Paul. Thank you."

"Fine," the man grunts before heading back in, slamming the door behind him.

"Friendly neighbors," Emma notes, drawing attention to herself for the very first time. When Regina looks up at her, meeting her eyes, she smiles just a bit, the expression slightly awkward and slightly sheepish.

Emma thinks that were the situation different, were they not seeing each other for the first time in five years, she might find the expression charming and endearing. Instead, the not-quite-sufficient-for-this-fucked-up-situation nature of it just ignites something cold and angry within Emma.

"Miss Swan," Regina whispers, her voice suddenly very low. Her arm wraps around Henry again, and vaguely, she's reminded of another scene that had occurred about five years ago. Back then, it'd been Emma who had been holding onto the boy as tight as possible. Back then, Henry had been clutching his blonde mother like he was afraid that if he let go, she'd disappear again.

This time, Henry is holding her like that. She feels something inside of her explode – warmly – at the realization of this.

"Five years," Emma says suddenly, her voice oddly rough. It's clear, then, that whatever warmth is surging through Regina is not shared by the blonde sheriff standing across the hallway from her, hands settled on her hips "I've been looking for you for five fucking years, Regina, and when I finally find you, back in my old apartment no less, you have the…balls to call to me Miss Swan." There's a flash of anger in her green eyes, and then a whole lot of other emotions.

Hurt, frustration and yeah, something intense.

Something that looks a whole lot like the reason Regina had fled in the first place. But that's ridiculous, the brunette reasons. It's been five years.

People move on.

She wants to laugh because she of all people knows that moving on from love is one of the hardest things in the world to do. Sometimes, it's impossible.

"Why don't we take this inside," Regina suggests, her tone still so damned even and calm. Like she's offering to buy cookies from a Girl Scout.

"Yeah, fine, let's do that," Emma nods, and suddenly she's feeling like the uncertain and slightly uneasy twenty-eight year old woman who'd once shown up unannounced, unexpected and unwanted at the mayor's house instead of the thirty-three year old confident and sure so-called savior who has become pretty damned good with a sword and a crossbow. She feels young and awkward.

She feels a little bit like she wishes she could run away. Which is weird because it's been several years since she's had the impulse to do that.

"Very well," the brunette answers before turning towards her door. She presses the key into the lock, this time with more luck (though Emma notices with an odd bit of satisfaction that Regina's hands are still trembling just a bit). After a moment, the door swings open, and Regina steps aside. "Please," she says, motioning inwards. That her hand stays lightly on Henry's shoulder – almost as if she's afraid that if she lets go he'll be gone – is something no one mentions.

Emma enters first, her green eyes scanning around. The place has been remodeled almost completely (the wall separating this unit from the next one has been torn down to provide for an expanded floor plan which now includes an office area), but it still roughly resembles the loft that she'd been living in when Henry had tracked her down so many years earlier.

It still looks like the place she'd been living in when her world had been turned upside down and inside out. Weird then, that, this little loft should get to play host to the next chapter of craziness involving a son and his two mothers.

She turns to face her former lover, eyes blazing. "Why this place?"

"I didn't think you wouldn't find me here," Regina answers as she steps inside, Henry still at her side. The boy has moved slightly away, but he's still close.

Close enough to pull him back to her if she feels she needs to.

"You're right," Emma replies. "It never crossed my mind." She shrugs her shoulders angrily then because try as she might, she can't come up with any reason why she would have ever even considered the idea of Regina staying here. This loft is so far below the former queen, so beneath her. And yet.

"Good," Regina nods. "Would you like something to drink?"

And that does it. Emma feels something cold and angry snap within her.

"Do I want a fucking drink?" the blonde all but shouts. "No! I want you to tell me why you just left!" And then, before her mind can slow her down enough to realize that their sixteen-year-old son is listening to everything being said, she follows up with a much quieter, "You let me wake up alone."

* * *

_Five Years Earlier._

_The alarm clock sounds at just after five in the morning. She'd set it to that time specifically to allow her and Regina a few minutes to decide what to do._

_To decide how to make their grand getaway._

_Emma's eyes open slowly, and she yawns and bows upwards so as to stretch her sleepy frame. Her muscles feel loose and relaxed, and she remembers back to the previous evening with a bit of a smile. The lovemaking had been unusual for them. Passionate and explosive certainly, like usual, but also intense in a way that had made everything so much more._

_Which had clearly been evidenced by the fact that in the aftermath of their coupling, she'd knocked out for several hours without even realizing it._

_She sits up in the bed, and that's when she realizes that she's alone. It's worse a moment later, though, when she realizes with the simplicity of a touch that the other side of the bed is gravely cold, the sheets radiating zero heat. _

_Which means that no one has been lying there for a few hours._

"_No," she growls out. She leaps up from the bed – not wearing a damned thing in the world – and rushes from the room, stepping out into the hallway. "Regina!"_

_She's greeted by cold silence._

"_Regina!" If she could step outside for a moment, she'd be horrified by the frantic tremor in her voice. She sounds almost inhuman, pained beyond simple words._

"_Emma?"_

_She snaps around, her eyes widening as she sees Henry standing in the doorway of his bedroom, a curiously horrified look on his face._

"_Why are you naked?" he asks, eyes wide and mortified. That he shouldn't be seeing this – that her nudity just might be a wee bit traumatic to him – doesn't even register in her mind. _

_Her reply is nonsensical to him at his age. "Your mom," she says weakly, her own green eyes locked on the door leading out of the house. She thinks that she should search the house completely (maybe she's in the garage, a voice in the back of her brain insists), but she has a pretty good idea that it's a waste of time. _

"_Isn't she with you?" Henry asks, trying to blink through his confusion. He's known for awhile that his mothers share a room and do…well he has no real idea what they do – but this is just strange. And Emma like this? Well, it frightens him._

_Because she's frightened._

_And then she makes it that much worse by looking right at him with tears in her eyes. "No," Emma whispers. "She's gone."_

* * *

It's a stand off between the two women, and while it's familiar, it's far from comfortable. Both stare at each other, their emotions different (Regina is showing frustration in waves, Emma is broadcasting anger like a neon sign).

"I had to leave," Regina says finally, softly, teeth grit as she tries to keep herself in control. It's been so very long since she felt the seductive touch of intense emotion, and she's not quite if she can handle the feelings if they explode.

She might not have magic available to her anymore, but she is still a volatile woman capable of dramatic actions, which can bring most people – even Emma Swan – to their knees. Oddly, it's the very last thing she wants to do right now.

"No, you didn't," Emma answers, shaking her head like it's all she can do.

"I had to," the brunette insists again.

"We would have gone with you."

"I know," the brunette nods, her eyes flickering over towards Henry. He's watching the interaction unfold with curious interest. He doesn't seem upset by their arguing. In fact, he seems almost pleased. "Henry," she says thickly.

"You want me to leave the room so you and Ma can argue some more, right?" the boy breezily offers up, a smile spreading over his face.

She almost answers in the affirmative, but then realizes that she can't actually bare the thought of him being out of her sight right about now. "No…I…there's nothing to argue about," Regina offers, her voice just a little bit unsteady. She's trying to act like none of this is bothering her, but the alcohol in her bloodstream and the exhaustion of the day are weakening her resolve.

"The hell there isn't," Emma snaps. "I want to know why."

"I did what I had to." Regina answers. And then, quite abruptly, she lets out a short sharp peel of laughter, the sound somewhat bitter and cruel. "Really, tell me, what else could I have done? I suppose I could have let them hang me in the middle of Town Square. Would you have preferred that, dear?"

The look on Emma's face is a bit like she's been punched about as hard as possible in the gut. Finally, once she's recovered her senses, her voice lower, and sounding just a little bit dangerous, the blonde responds with, "You could have let us come with you. We would have gone anywhere with you. You knew that then. You know that now."

"Indeed, I did, and I do. And even then, I wanted more for you than that," Regina answers softly, allowing her eyes to close as she speaks. The isolation of the last five years has allowed her significant time to care for herself and only herself without recrimination. It's a bit odd to now be pushing herself back into the mindset that had made her leave the town that she had created with her own mind and magic. "I wanted more for both of you than a life of…exile."

"You want to keep pretending like you were being selfless, but I know you, Regina. That's not who you are," Emma growls. The words are cruel, and not really meant, but the brunette takes them at face value, absorbing them.

"For once I wanted to be," she answers simply, a sad smile on her lips.

"It wasn't your choice to make," Emma insists, and it's taking everything – every bit of strength - that the blonde has right now not to break down – or completely lose her temper. Perhaps what's keeping her somewhat in control of herself (if not her emotions or words) is the fact that Henry is standing between the two of them, quietly watching. Seeing everything, listening with a…smile.

It's weird, she thinks, how calm he is.

How unsurprised he is.

Before she can dwell on this, she's brought back to the conversation at hand by Regina's deep voice answering, "It was my choice, Emma. It was the only choice I could make that involved doing right by you – by both of you - for once."

"Leaving us was doing right by us? Do you even hear what you're saying?" Emma demands, and for a moment, Regina wonders if the blonde is about to stamp her feet against the ground in frustration. It'd be utterly ridiculous, and strangely, completely welcomed in its youthful Emma Swan like absurdity.

"Do you, Miss Swan?" Regina replies, trying like hell to get the conversation back to a path that she believes she can traverse with a bit more ease. The degree of emotion that Emma is sending her way is disarming, and she needs to try to blunt some of the impact of the blonde's intense feelings before she folds, bends and once again breaks beneath the force of Emma's heart. Before she drops to her knees in front of the blonde and begs for forgiveness. "I know it's been quite awhile since we've seen each other, but last I recall, you weren't quite so needy."

"Mom," Henry says softly, and for the first time alarm shows in his eyes. One look at him, and suddenly, with a hard clench of her jaw, Regina is backing down.

"You're trying to hurt me," Emma says, nodding sharply, her muscles tightening.

"It seems I've never really needed to try," Regina replies.

"You wish we weren't here right now?" the blonde asks, tilting her head just a bit. "Do you wish that we hadn't found you?"

"Quite the opposite, which is why…" she stops, unable to finish the sentence. She knows that she should tell them to leave, but she's still a selfish woman, and these two people are everything that's ever been good or worthwhile about her.

They're her heart and soul.

And she needs them to leave before she breaks, but she can't manage the words to make them go. Emma is providing her with an opening, and she can't take it.

"Regina," Emma says suddenly, stepping towards her former lover, hand outstretched as if to touch the woman. Maybe even pull her close. When no resistance surges forward to meet her, she does what she's wanted to do since the moment she saw the brunette in the hallway: she wraps her arms around her.

"You need to go," Regina whispers, but her face is suddenly buried into Emma's shoulder. "You have to go. You have to." Her hands are digging into Emma's back almost painfully, the pressure being exerted enormous and frantic. It occurs to the blonde that this is about as terrified as she's ever seen the former queen.

Which, of course, begs the question of what she's so afraid of? Being happy?

"We're not going anywhere," Emma tells her, and her eyes are on Henry, who is smiling again, like he knew this was going to happen. Like watching his two mothers reunite after five years isn't at all a surprise to him.

"Please," Regina whispers, her voice muffled against Emma's jacket. The blonde is only slightly surprised to feel a slight tremor from the older woman. "Go."

"No," she says simply. "Not without you."

Regina looks up, then, and Emma is a bit startled to see tears on the former mayor's cheeks. It's then when her eyes scope out the differences in the woman. She's thinner now. Still insanely beautiful, but somehow less stunning. Pain and loneliness have settled deep into her skin. Worse now than before, Emma thinks.

Exile truly is the worst punishment of all.

No matter what her mother thinks.

* * *

_Five Years Earlier._

_Snow and Charming are waiting for her when she arrives at the loft that she'd once shared with her mother. Snow is at the kitchen table, morosely nursing a cup of tea. Charming is standing over her, a hand on his wife's shoulder._

"_Emma," Snow says softly when her daughter enters, and she thinks about what else she'd like to say, but all the other words that go through her mind feel false._

_She's not sorry Regina is gone._

_She's not._

"_Where is she?" Emma demands, and damned if she doesn't look so very close to a complete meltdown. She's practically vibrating with rage and anger._

_And hurt._

_Which is enough to make Snow close her eyes. She prays for calm, begs for strength. She wonders why something that seems like it should be simple is so very hard. She wonders why even now Regina is making everything hurt._

"_Gone," Charming says. "She left a few hours ago."_

"_Where?" Emma demands. She looks a bit wild, has ever since she'd fled the mansion with Henry in tow. He's with Red now, and she knows he's scared, but she doesn't have the emotional bandwidth to think about that right now._

"_We didn't ask, and she didn't tell," Charming responds, his fingers tightening on his wife's shoulder. It's a supportive gesture, not a possessive one._

"_I need to find her."_

"_No," Snow replies, meeting Emma's eyes. "She accepted her exile."_

"_I didn't."_

"_But she did," Charming tells her. "And she didn't want you to follow."_

"_You don't know that."_

"_Actually, we do," Snow corrects. "She left before you woke specifically so she would have a few hours to get away."_

"_I don't care. No one gets to decide my life for me. Not again. Not her. Not you."_

"_Emma…"_

"_Why? Why couldn't we just…"_

"_Let it go?" Snow asks. "You want me to let go of the fact that she murdered my father? Your grandfather? You want me to just forgive her for taking you from us for twenty-eight years? You want me to pretend that I don't know who she is?"_

_Emma thinks for a moment about reminding her mother of the things that she'd done to Regina, but it seems pointless to get into such a tit-for-tat kind of argument. Instead, her voice low, "You don't. You never did."_

"_And you do? Emma, I don't know who you convinced yourself that she was, but you're wrong. She was a monster."_

"_Not to me."_

"_She tried to kill you, too." Tears are falling down Snow's cheeks, and Emma wonders for a moment if her mother doesn't seem just a little bit conflicted._

"_I know, and I know that if she hadn't enacted the curse, I would have grown up with the two of you, and I probably would have been very happy, but that's not what happened. My life didn't turn out like a fairytale," Emma says._

"_Because of her."_

_Emma nods her head in agreement. "I love her anyway."_

"_Don't say that."_

"_Would you prefer I lie? Would you prefer I pretend like everyone else in this damned town is? Is it better that I pretend that now that the Evil Queen is gone, everything is fine? Everyone's 'happy ending' is back?"_

"_Yes," Snow replies. She reaches a shaky hand out for Emma, but the blonde steps back and away, unwilling to accept the contact,._

"_That's bullshit, and you know it. No one is better off today than they were yesterday. Maybe less human, but not better. Face it, the two of you got lucky. Not everyone does. That's reality and has nothing to do with Regina."_

"_People can start over now," Snow says._

"_Nothing was stopping them before. She'd completely stood down. She'd surrendered all of her power. She was trying to make amends."_

"_People didn't want amends."_

"_No, they wanted vengeance. Same as she did. Maybe we can get a group discount on exiles if that's the price to be paid for giving into vengeance."_

"_Emma, I know you're angry…"_

"_You have no idea," Emma snaps back, staring right at the woman who'd been her roommate – and best friend – for almost a year. "What am I supposed to tell Henry? How am I supposed to tell him that his mother is gone?"_

"_You're his mother," Charming tells her, and it feels more like he's speaking simply to give Snow a chance to breathe. There's no conviction in his words._

"_And yet when he has nightmares, when he's afraid, he calls for her."_

"_She had a choice," Snow insists._

"_Did she? Death or exile. Yeah, you know what, I'd probably choose the one that doesn't end with me hanging from a rope, too."_

"_There had to be justice."_

"_We have very different ideas of the word justice."_

_Snow blinks then and looks up, and suddenly the tears are drying, and she's taking back control of the situation. "Yes, we do," she nods. "In our world, she wouldn't have been given the mercy of exile. Now, she can start again."_

"_Without me." The words are dull and empty, a bitter anvil to her heart._

"_Yes, and I won't be sorry for that. She's taken too much from me already. I won't be sorry that she can't take you as well." She meets Emma's eyes. "I know you offered to leave with her. I know you offered to run away with her and Henry."_

"_She told you?"_

_Snow tilts her head, her expression vaguely surprised. "Did you really think she could resist letting me know that my daughter would prefer to be with the woman who has tried to destroy my life over and over again as opposed to her own family? I'm not sure you know her as well as you think you do."_

_Emma really has no answer to that. She considers attempting to defend Regina again, but the brunette's need to spite and hurt has always been one of her damning personality traits. That she'd done it on the way out of Storybrooke doesn't actually surprise Emma so much as sadden her._

_But then, she knows the woman she'd fallen for. _

_Never an angel, but not quite the demon everyone makes her out to be._

"_What makes you think I won't just pack up Henry and go looking for her?"_

"_Because you won't. He deserves better than a life on the road," Charming says. _

"_We don't always get what we deserve."_

"_Sometimes we do," Snow replies. "You may love her, Emma, but she was never worthy of that love. And she shouldn't be forgiven just because you do love her."_

"_No? But isn't that how your goddamned storybooks go? Love redeems all? Why is that true for everyone but her?" Emma demands._

"_Because it's you, and I don't care about her redemption if it means losing you in the process. I'm sorry, but I don't."_

_Emma stops then because this is perhaps the most honest and raw that she's ever seen her mother. The brunette's words are selfish and angry, but they're also blindingly true and human. Emma wonders how she would feel if she were the one sitting where Snow was, if Henry was the one raging about a lost love._

_Could she manage to be a good enough person not to be a hypocrite? Could she find mercy within her heart for someone who'd done her so very much wrong?_

_She thinks not._

_She thinks she'd protect Henry to the very last drop of her blood, to the first last shred of her soul if it meant that he'd be protected from a perceived evil._

_And Regina is certainly more than a perceived evil._

_Emma has never lied to herself no matter what the silly and shortsighted people in this town might think. She knows how bloody Regina's ledger is, knows how full of skeletons her closet truly is. It would be wrong to say that she's never cared. It would be incorrect to suggest that she's never wondered what kind of person could love someone who has done so many horrible things. _

_Emma loves, though, because she does. Because beneath all of the violence and fury is a very broken woman who desires nothing more than to be wanted. _

_Emma loves because at her core, Regina is disturbingly human in a way few other people in her life have ever been. Beneath all of the furious bluster and cruel mind games, she's frail and corrupted and damaged. And more exposed and vulnerable than she'd ever known or understood._

_That humanity doesn't erase or even begin to clear the ledger, but it does provide hope that one day, redemption can be earned. Perhaps even forgiveness._

_Emma had hoped to be there for that._

_All of that hope is gone now._

_She drops down into the chair opposite Snow. "You know I'll look for her."_

"_I know," Snow says softly. "But I hope as you forgave her, you'll forgive me."_

"_I will," Emma answers because she knows that she will. She knows that despite her hurt and anger, she doesn't actually have it in her to turn her back on the family she has. She thinks that even if she had run away with Regina, she would have always wondered about Snow and Charming, would have always yearned to be near them. "But first I have to explain to Henry that his mom – the one who fought like hell for him, the one who was willing to kill for him – has now left him."_

_Snow blinks slowly, but says nothing. She could offer to help, but knows that such a suggestion wouldn't be welcomed. After a moment, she slides a manila envelope across the table. It's thick and full, and suddenly Emma dreads it._

"_She wanted me to give this to you. And no, I don't know what's in there, but considering how strongly she felt about you not following her, I don't think it's an address or a way to contact her."_

"_No, probably not," Emma admits. She picks up the envelope and turns it over in her hands, feeling the weight and texture of it. After a long moment, she looks up at her parents. "It didn't have to be like this."_

"_It did," is all Snow will say again, and it's clear she's trying to convince herself._

"_Believe that all you need to, but vengeance is vengeance no matter how righteous you are about it," Emma replies. She stands then, and heads towards the door. She stops after a moment, and turns back. "I need…I need a few days. Don't call or come by, please. I just…I need…"_

"_We know," Charming offers. "When you're ready, we'll be here."_

"_Thank you." And with that, she turns and leaves. _

_She pretends not to hear the sound of her mother crying._

* * *

_She thinks it a small miracle that she manages not to completely break down on her way back to the mansion. Once she's settled back into Regina's den, she finally begins the process of reviewing the envelope that Regina had left for her. Henry is still with Red, and she'll probably leave him there until she can figure out exactly what to say to him._

_Like there are words for this._

_Inside are three things: two letters and a legal document. One of the letters is for Henry, the other for her. The legal document is custody papers. It occurs to her as she looks at them that Regina had had these drawn up several weeks ago._

_Back when she likely thought she'd be executed for her crimes._

_Emma slides the papers into the drawer of the desk, and then opens the letter addressed to her. The penmanship is decidedly Regina's, sweeping and regal._

_The letter, however, is short and to the point._

_I love you. I'm sorry._

_This time, Emma doesn't bother trying to stop the breakdown. _

* * *

"I did look for you," Emma tells her, still holding the brunette against her. She's just a little bit afraid that if she lets the woman go, this will all be a dream. "I've never stopped looking for you."

It feels like a dream anyway.

"I know," Regina nods, but offers no more than that. She finally steps away from Emma, reaching up to wipe moisture away from her eyes. It's almost amusing to watch her try to put herself back together. Almost hysterical to think that this woman was once one of the most feared human beings to ever live.

"It's weird," Emma muses. "I'm the best at what I do. Finding people. I even found Gold's son, but you? You managed to evade me, and I never understood how."

"She had help," Henry says suddenly. "Didn't you, Mom?"

"I did, and that's a very long story for another time perhaps." She then looks at Henry. "Why are you here?"

"Because you are." It's a strange answer, and once again, Emma's struck by the realization that her son doesn't seem the least bit surprised by this reunion.

"No, I mean why are you in Boston?"

"It's my birthday," Henry answers simply. "And I wanted to come see you."

Both women snap towards him at the same time, almost in sync. And when they ask the same question at the same time, their voices blending together, the boy can't help but grin like he's won something. "What?" they both demand.

He laughs, his joy almost electric. "I found you, Mom," he tells her, his smile wide and beautiful. "We…" he gestures to Emma, "We found you."

Emma's green eyes widen as she thinks back to Henry asking her to take him to a game. He likes football, but she'd thought it a bit strange that he'd wanted to spend his sixteenth birthday at a stadium full of people. He's never been much for large crowds. Not since he'd come to understand that one had once practically chased his mother out of town. In fact, he's been known to get a little panicky around them.

And yet, just under two weeks ago, he'd come to her and pleaded with her, begging her for tickets to see the Patriots. Specifically them.

"You…knew?" Emma asks, exchanging a wary look with Regina. "How?"

His face grows suddenly deadly serious, a look that harkens far more to his adopted mother than his biological one. "I called in a favor."

* * *

_Two Weeks Ago._

_The door to the pawn shop opens and it's not the icy cold of coastal Maine flowing through the small room that catches the shopkeepers' attention. No, it's the boy who steps in that makes the man known as Rumplestiltskin look up. _

"_Mr. Swan," Gold (he still goes by this most of the time, he finds it a more pleasant name to be called, less rage-inducing and far less powerful) greets, his smile as slippery and smooth as ever. Over the last several years, Gold's influence and power have waned considerably, but he's still a snake with a vicious bite. Even his feelings for his lover and his son haven't altered that._

"_Mills," Henry corrects. "My last name remains Mills."_

"_Does it now?" Gold queries, eyebrow lifted. He's curious, and like always, he's not able to hide this. It's always been his downfall, his greed and need to know._

"_It does."_

"_Very well, Mr. Mills, what can I do for you today?"_

"_You owe me," the boy says as he shakes snow off of his jacket. _

"_How's that?"_

"_You betrayed my mother." He lifts his eyes. "And I don't mean Emma."_

"_Betrayed her did I?" Gold laughs. "No, I merely –"_

"_Save it," Henry snaps, and for a moment, he's every bit Regina's son, all the way down to the short temper and intolerance for games. "You manipulated her life and turned her into your puppet. Jefferson told me…everything."_

"_Mm. He still on his twelve step thing?" Gold asks, looking more than a little annoyed. His former disciple has gone even softer than previous thanks to his love for his little girl. Somewhere along the way, the now quite pretty teenager had begged her father to make right on his wrongs (weird the effect children can have on their parents' souls, Gold muses). Apparently, this had manifested itself as Jefferson confessing his sins to anyone who would willingly listen._

_Thankfully, most people still think the former hatter to be quite mad and haven't paid him much attention. Apparently, young Henry Mills has._

"_He is," Henry nods. "He tells a good story." The boy leans forward, smiling in a way that is almost malicious. "But I think, Mr. Gold, that we both know just how true good stories can be, don't we, sir?"_

"_Indeed we do," Gold agrees. "All right, let's assume for a moment that I do owe you – and I'm not saying I do, but I am curious – what is it that you want?"_

"_My mother's location."_

_"I'm assuming you don't mean the sheriff," Gold smirks. "Because last I saw, she was chasing a few of the Lost Boys around town again."_

"_You know exactly who I mean," Henry answers. "The same woman you owe for what you did to her. I want to find her."_

"_Mm. From what I understand, young Mr. Mills, you and your other mother have been looking for our former queen almost non-stop for the last five years. Without any degree of success, I might add. What makes you think that I can find her when your mother could not? Isn't finding people what she does?"_

"_Usually, but my mom isn't most people."_

"_True enough."_

"_And you're Rumplestiltskin. You know things others don't."_

"_Yes, of course, absolutely right, my dear boy. But I would think that you would know that Ms. Swan would know that as well. And I would think that you would know that she, too, would have come here demanding information."_

_Henry nods his head slowly, almost thoughtfully. "Emma had nothing to give you. Nothing you wanted anyway. I do."_

"_Oh?" Gold's eyes widen, and though he knows that it weakens his bargaining possession to show so much interest, he does so anyway._

_Because Henry Mills is a very special boy, always has been. Born of the Charming bloodline and yet raised by the Evil Queen. He's the very embodiment of light and dark crashing together. Maybe not biologically, but all the same._

"_You're still trying to find a way to break the border around this town, aren't you?"_

"_I am," Gold admits. And he is. Try as he might, every attempt he has made over the last five years has failed. He's as trapped here as he was before the curse was broken. Which means that though he now knows where Bae is (Emma had repaid the favor owed him by locating his missing son in New York), he can't get to the boy. He can't make his son who has thus far refused to come see him understand just how much his father loves him. The damn border ensures this._

"_I know how to do it." Henry smiles again. "True love."_

"_Really?" Gold laughs. "Because your grandparents have all but fornicated atop the line to try to destroy its' hold over this town." His words are crude, but he's frustrated, and though he's impressed with this boy, he's also annoyed with him._

_He's too much like the prized pupil that he'd come to despise, and he's too much like the obstinate blonde sheriff who refuses to be afraid of him._

"_When you built the curse, you built in a true love clause. It was connected to my mother, though, which means that only she can break it."_

"_And she did. When she saved your life." _

"_She broke half of the curse, not all of it. She still needs the other part of true love in order to destroy all of it. And I think you know I'm right."_

"_Are you trying to tell me that your two mothers have true love?" Gold asks with a harsh snort. "Oh, Henry, I think you've been reading your book again."_

"_Well if so, it's because you wanted me to do so in the first place. You made sure that book got into my hands. Didn't you?"_

"_You have an active imagination," Gold suggests, but he's smiling. He leans forward then, his tone growing malicious, "But you're not wrong."_

"_Then you'll help me because you owe me."_

"_No, I'll help you because it means you'll help me," Gold corrects. "But there is a wrinkle in your plan. If you're right and your mothers do, in fact, share a true love strong enough to break what's left of the curse, you'll need to bring Regina back to Storybrooke. You're a smart boy, Henry. You must know that doing so could result in her death." He cocks his head curiously. "Are you willing to take that chance?"_

"_A lot has changed," Henry says. "This town isn't like it was."_

"_You'd better hope you're right."_

"_I am. Where is she?"_

_Gold chuckles, then makes his way over to a thin wooden box. He waves his hand over it. It unlocks and Gold extracts a piece of silver paper. "She's my apprentice," he says simply. "I will always know where she is."_

"_People say my mother is a monster," Henry answers as he takes the piece of paper from Gold, not yet looking down at the address written upon it. "But I wonder who she might have been if you'd never come into her life."_

"_We'll never know."_

"_No, we won't, but I am bringing her home." _

_And with that, he turns and leaves. It's not until he's outside and back in the cold air with snow hitting his shoulders again that he looks down at the paper and see the address written in gold print upon the paper._

_It's an address he knows, even now, so many years later._

_It's an address of the loft that he'd found Emma at._

_It's where this whole story had begun._

_Apparently, Henry Mills thinks with a smile, all things really do come full circle._

* * *

To say that his mothers are surprised would be the understatement of the year. Their expressions are a grab bag full of shock, anger and maybe even pride.

"That bastard," Emma growls. "I'm going to fucking kill him."

"What were you thinking?" Regina admonishes.

"I was thinking it was time for you to come home," Henry answers defiantly. "And it is." He looks at Emma. "I'm sorry about lying to you, but you never would have believed me. And if I had suggested us coming here to the loft, I think you would have tried to talk me out of it to protect me. It needed to be your idea."

"You manipulated me," Emma notes with a hint of dismay. Then, shrugging it off, she looks over at Regina, and shrugs her shoulder. "He's still your boy."

She's not surprised to see Regina smile at that.

But then, growing serious, Regina says, "Henry, he's a snake, but Gold was right, if I return, it's the same as rejecting the plea agreement. By the rules of our old land, the people have every right to try me again. And to execute me."

"They won't," Henry tells her. "They know now that you leaving didn't solve anything, and I think…I think if you guys can break the rest of the curse, maybe then people can actually really start to get on with their lives."

He sounds so suddenly young and hopeful again, and for a moment, all Regina sees is her fresh-faced little boy as he'd been five years ago.

"Then we go back," Emma says, and her eyes are suddenly locked on Regina's. "Or we don't and we stay. That's my choice. Now make yours."

"You are a stubborn idiot, my dear," Regina scoffs, but she can't hide the affection for the woman in front of her nor can she disguise the desire to once again be part of something more than her. Be it family or town.

Maybe, just maybe, it is time to return to Storybrooke.

And maybe, just maybe, there's finally forgiveness to be found there.

"Is that a yes?" Emma prompts.

"I suppose it is."

The words are just barely out of the former queen's mouth before Emma is suddenly in her personal space, pressed up tight against her, chest to chest, lips upon her own, arms quickly circling her frame to pull her even closer and tighter.

It doesn't take long for the kiss to intensify past the point of decency.

It's Henry laughing that finally pulls them apart, both of them looking a bit sheepish about forcing their sixteen year old son to watch a make-out session.

He doesn't really give them much time for that, though. He simply steps forward, wraps an arm around each of their shoulders, pulls them both inwards so that they're essentially engaging in a three-way hug, and whispers, "Let's go home."

**TBC...**

* * *

**Minor story note: People do really screwed up things when they're trying to protect who - and what - they love. That's kind of Regina's story. As much as many of us rail against the hypocrisy of the Charming family for condemning her when they do bad things themselves, I caution against railing against Snow and Charming for doing what Regina would. Anyway, that's my justification and explanation. In my mind, Snow acts in a reprehensible - but justifiable - manner. It's the refusal to admit that's she doing such that's galling, not the actions.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for all of the kind words. One more chapter to go until she's done.**

* * *

_Five Years Earlier_

_Her breath visible in the incredibly cold pre-dawn air, she stands on the slight porch step, a bright manila envelope clutched tucked under her armpit, waiting with more patience than she feels. It's somewhat humiliating to be standing here at all, but it's just plain insulting to be kept waiting. Still, she doesn't move a muscle, just gazes at the door evenly and almost passively. She considers knocking again, but the sound of footsteps slowly scuffing forward stills her fist. Good, she thinks, because it's damned cold and she'd rather keep her hands nice and warm within the pockets of Emma's ratty old gray sweatshirt._

_She tries to forget for a moment that she's wearing this damned thing. It's utterly unlike her to don it. It's an article of clothing that even three months ago she never would have even considered putting on. Silly weak sentimentality, she thinks. She should strip it off, and leave it behind for Emma to retrieve later._

_She can't – and won't – do that, though. Partially because it smells like her blonde lover. Slightly earthy with just a mild hint of perfume and an even more faint touch of sweat. Partially because once she leaves Storybrooke, aside from a few stolen pictures and a whole lot of painful memories, this hoody will be all she has left of the woman who had so dramatically altered her life._

_Yeah, she grouses to herself, she really has become a sentimental fool._

_The door opens finally (hedging a bit as the warped wood protests and then finally gives) and Charming stands there, for a second blinking stupidly. After a moment, he recognizes her, and understanding floods through his bright blue eyes. "Regina," he says softly. She sees it then, once again, the compassion he feels for her. The time he'd spent with her at Henry's bedside, both of them for once on the same side, well it had meant something. Not enough to stop what's about to happen, but it's still something, and well that, too, is something. _

"_I've made my decision," she tells the blonde man, meeting his bleary eyes with her own turbulent dark ones. If he can tell that hers are slightly wet, he doesn't let on. He simply nods his head and steps out of the way to let her inside the loft._

"_I'll wake Snow."_

"_She's actually sleeping?" Regina asks with a bit of surprise, and perhaps a hint of disgust. Leave it to Snow White to find rest on such a horrible evening._

_But then things are never so simple. Charming shakes his head. "Dozing in and out, but neither of us could sleep. Believe it or not, neither of us wants this."_

"_I don't believe you," Regina answer. "But that's all right. Wake her, and let's get this over with." Her tone is firm, providing no room for further conversation._

_With a quick hard nod of understanding, he slips into the back of the loft, allowing Regina a few moments alone. This is far from the first time she's been in this place so she wastes only a few seconds looking around. Instead, she tries to center herself. This decision she's made is one she's already wishing she could walk back, but she knows that if she does, everything will be that much worse._

_If she refuses to leave, she'll be killed in front of Emma. This damned suppression bracelet that she's wearing pretty much guarantees that. She has no magic available to her, and while she can still scheme and maneuver with the best of them, absent her powers, she's simply no match for a town out for blood. _

_If she chooses to leave Storybrooke with Emma and Henry, she knows beyond a doubt that they will come to hate her for it. Time was, she wouldn't have cared because their presence alone would have made her happy enough, but things have changed. She's changed. There's still considerable darkness and pain within her, but apparently, the Savior has succeeded in shining some of her damnable white light onto the Evil Queen's broken heart as well. Which means that yes, Regina actually cares if Emma and Henry are happy as well._

_Thus, as horrible a decision as this is, it is also the only choice she actually has._

"_You're early, " Snow says suddenly, the words quite unnecessary. She steps out of the back with a blanket over her shoulders, and Charming's bulking size at her side. As if the woman actually needs him there, but the former queen has no doubt that Snow takes comfort from his nearness. From his unrelenting support._

_That she envies Snow for this even as she understands that she is walking away from an offer of the same from Emma's is a bitter pill to swallow indeed._

"_I figured it was probably best for me to get a jump on running away," Regina answers, folding her hands – she can feel them shaking – in front of her._

"_You're leaving, then?" Snow asks, motioning towards the kitchen table, as if to suggest that they should sit. Regina eyes the chair for a moment, considering making a comment about how ridiculous it is to act like they're simply about to play a game of cards with each other, but reluctantly, she bites her tongue._

_Instead, nodding her head sharply, Regina says, "I am." She sits then, dropping the envelope onto the table in front of her, but not yet pushing it towards Snow, who has also seated herself. They're directly opposite each other now. _

_As they've always been._

"_So you're accepting exile? Knowing that if you ever return to Storybrooke without permission that you submit yourself to possible execution anew?"_

"_I am and I do," the former queen confirms, choosing to ignore the comment about permission. She thinks that Snow is just being thorough, but she can't help but be slightly annoyed by the authority the younger woman is assuming._

"_Why?"_

"_I don't want to die," Regina says simply, as though she's hoping that will be enough for her former stepdaughter. She's fooling herself, though._

"_You're not afraid of death, Regina," Snow presses, eyes bright with curiosity. _

"_Perhaps not, but I don't want my son to know I was hung in the streets like a common criminal. Whatever else I am, I am not that."_

_It's completely wrong, but she derives just the smallest bit of pleasure at the way Snow winces at the crudeness of her words._

"_You know we'd never let him watch. You know that, right?"_

"_I do, but I also know that he'd find out, anyway. He's a curious boy who has never learned when it's best to leave things well enough alone. He gets that rather obnoxious tendency from Miss Swan, I'm afraid." _

"_Yes, I suppose he does." Snow lifts her head, then. "What did you tell her?"_

"_Do you really believe that if I told her anything that I would be here alone?"_

_Snow shifts anxiously at this. "No. Emma cares for you."_

_The former queen allows herself a sharp cold peel of laughter. "She doesn't just care for me, Snow, she actually loves me," Regina tells her, her smile full and cruel. "And no, I don't know why. I never will. But the truth is, she does love me."_

_Snow's fidgeting increases, and, suddenly, she's quite unsure what to do with her hands. Every part of her rails against the words she's hearing. Thankfully, Charming picks that moment to press a cup of tea into her palms. He places another one in front of Regina. "She's better off without you," Snow says quietly._

_For a moment, Regina finds herself quite unable to speak. She knows her lines here, knows what she's supposed to say, but the words catch hard in her throat, and it takes considerable willpower to push them out. "Yes, she is. Both of them are. On that, I think for the first time, we are actually agreed."_

"_So she doesn't know then," Charming asks, and though this has clearly already been answered, neither woman snaps at him for gaining agreement once more._

"_She does not," Regina confirms. "I left her sleeping." She considers adding the location of where Emma had been, but not only does that seem needlessly cruel (not her biggest concern, admittedly), it's also a violation of Emma's privacy and trust. She rather figures that she's hurting the blonde enough right now._

"_We'll be there to help her through this," Snow tells her. "We're her family."_

_And that does it. Regina nods sharply. "Yes. Well, since you brought that up, let me explain who she thinks her family is, Snow," the former queen says with a malicious glint in her dark eyes. "Last night, after we returned to my mansion – after your 'people' forced me to submit to your little trial in the streets – your daughter offered to run away with me. She offered to go into exile with me."_

"_You're lying."_

"_Am I? I think you know I'm not. It'd have been just me and her and Henry. The three of us away from here. Just us. That's who she wants her family to be."_

_She might as well have open-palm slapped Snow across the face._

_And yes, it's every bit the violation of Emma's trust that revealing her location would have been, and yet Regina can't find the energy to be remorseful._

_Because fuck it all if she isn't about to completely lose everything no matter the argument being had now. This is just words and emotions and vague worthless gamesmanship. In an hour, all of this will be in the past and her future will be on the other side of Storybrooke while Henry and Emma will still be inside of it._

_So if she wants to be a bit spiteful and mean now, well so what about it?_

_Teeth grit tightly enough to break, Snow growls, "I bet you loved that. Knowing that you could take our daughter away from us again."_

_Regina shrugs, tries to seem unaffected, but the most she manages is weary and resigned. "It certainly would have been a bonus," she admits. _

"_Then why didn't you take them up on the offer?"_

_She says nothing, just meets Snow's eyes, practically begging the younger woman to answer the question herself so that she doesn't have to say the words._

_It's Charming who gets there first. "Because you couldn't do it."_

_Regina's jaw clenches, but she doesn't deny his explanation._

"_I don't understand," Snow says, turning to look at her husband, who is wearing such an interesting expression of sympathy mingled with curiosity tangled up with something that looks just a little bit like respect._

"_She couldn't take Emma away from us again. Why? Why not?"_

"_She would have hated me," Regina finally says, and her words are just barely audible, little more than a gasping whisper, the pain therein evident and clear as a bell. "Maybe not immediately, but eventually, she would have come to hate me for making her choose between us, and I'm not sure...anyway, I made it easy for everyone, and chose for her. She'll be angry for a time, but she'll get over it."_

"_You sound like you're trying to convince yourself," Charming notes._

_Her eyes snap up to him. "I'm not trying to convince anyone. You asked for an explanation, dear, and now you have one. Now, if it is all the same to you, I'd prefer we stop talking and get on with this. The sun will be up soon, and if Emma wakes with it, things will be that much more difficult, and both of you know it."_

"_She's right," Snow says, her eyes still on Regina, likes she's still looking for the manipulation, like she's still wondering where the trick is._

_There is none, though._

_This is the end of things._

"_So what's your plan?" Charming asks._

_Regina motions to the manila envelope in front of her. "First, I ask that you give her this. It's of no importance to you what's inside of it, but it does matter to me that she receives it. I could have left it at the house, but well, I wanted her to see it immediately and this seemed the best way to ensure such." _

"_Fine," Snow nods, picking up the envelope. She eyes it skeptically, feeling its weight. "And then?"_

"_And then, I need to make my…getaway. Your daughter is quite stubborn, and she also happens to be quite good at finding people so I'll need to cover my tracks as well as possible. That means ditching my car as soon as I can."_

"_Why not just take a different one?" Charming asks. "I'm sure I can find you something suitable enough even at this late hour."_

_Her eyebrow lifts. "I don't think we share the same tastes. Which is also why I'm not leaving my Mercedes with you. Left here, it'll be destroyed by the morons in this town within the space of a day. No, it'll stay with me for the time being."_

"_Always have to look like you're winning, don't you?" Snow asks. _

"_On the contrary, I don't think anyone in the world would confuse what's about to happen for me winning just because I chose to take my Mercedes with me."_

_The women stare at each other for a long moment, and it's clear to both of them that this is about far more than just a car. It's about Regina refusing to have one more thing that she calls her own be taken from her by her former stepdaughter._

"_Fine," Snow says eventually. "What will you do for money?"_

_"I have resources," Regina replies, dark eyes glittering as she sees Snow about to protest. "And those are my business. You want me gone, Snow, you'll have to deal with the fact that I ensured that I won't sleep on the streets. As I said before, I am not a common criminal, and I will not live as such to please you."_

"_I assume what you have won't negatively affect Henry or this town?"_

"_You assume correctly. I may wish most of the people who so adore you would simply drop dead, but I spent twenty-eight years nurturing this town, whether you want to believe that or not. I have no desire to see it crumble just because I've been pushed out of it. You will find in my desk at my old office a full accounting of all city finances, and you will notice that Storybrooke is quite healthy and well off. As for Henry, I've set up generous accounts for him with Emma as the executor."_

"_How will you stay clear of Emma?" Charming queries._

"_I have my ways, but though I'm loathe to admit it, I'll need your help as well. Emma's going to want to do something stupid like go on a grand quest to find me." She looks right at Charming. "It's in her blood. And since that's your fault, it's also your job to remind her of her responsibilities to Henry. He's going to need her to be the perfect mother that he believes she is. He'll need her to be stable."_

"_We can do that," Snow nods._

"_I'm counting on it. All right then, shall we make our way to the town limits? The gods know I'm more than ready to be done with the two of you for good."_

* * *

_Standing in the middle of the woods, just a few feet away from the spray painted line, Regina is actually a bit proud of herself for keeping it together as well as she is. For a moment, her mind tries to act like this is no big deal at all._

_But then Charming reminds her of it all, "You're sure the line won't affect you?" _

_Regina chuckles because wouldn't that just be the bright red cherry on the top of this humiliation sundae – the idea of her wandering around aimlessly, struck of all of her memories. The worst part – and Snow and Charming both know it – is that they'd feel obligated to care for her if that were the case._

_And that's just too much for her. For all of them, really._

_A hint of disgust in her tone, she answers with, "I'm quite certain. I've only ever had one set of memories here. That, and I've crossed the line once or twice already – though only for a few minutes at a time - with…minimal effects."_

"_Meaning?" Snow presses._

"_Nausea and slight disorientation. Nothing I can't deal with."_

"_So you'll be fine, then?"_

"_Yes, dear, nothing for you to worry about."_

"_After today, Regina, I hope to never worry about you again," the woman admits._

"_Oh, but we both know that you will," the former queen counters. "Every time you see Henry, even though it'll kill you to do so, you'll think of the mother you ripped away from him. And every time you watch Emma struggling to believe in love once again, you'll know what you took from her. And maybe, just maybe, Snow, you'll finally even understand what you took from me. Now twice in this lifetime. Although, this time, at least I suppose, you can say you did it for the better good."_

"_Regina…" _

"_Enough. I think you and I have said everything that there is to say. There's only one thing more: I expect you to protect them with your lives. Whatever you think of me or my ability to parent or love, those two mean everything to me."_

"_They're our family," Charming tells her._

"_They're mine, too." Regina answers, and this time, try as she might, she can't stop the hot tears from leaking down her weather-chilled cheeks. She turns quickly then, and slides into the passenger seat of the Benz. She blinks the moisture away, takes a deep breath and then moves the gearshift into drive._

_She never looks back as she crosses the line._

_She refuses to see Charming hold Snow in his arms, her face against his chest._

_The nausea hits her hard, but she steels herself and keeps driving. It's not until she hits the highway that she finally pulls over and allows herself to stumble from the Benz and – weeping almost violently – throw up the contents of her stomach._

_It's then that she notices that the silver band on her wrist has turned dull. Her fingers come around the side of it, and she's able to unsnap it with ease. A flick of her hand and she understands that the bracelet hardly matters anyway._

_There's no magic in this land. Not outside of Storybrooke, anyway._

_She stares back down the road, looks towards the trees that hide the path that leads back to where Emma and Henry are, the two of them still sound asleep._

_She ponders returning, crossing the line with all of her magic intact and taking her family. By force if need be. She considers destroying anyone and everyone who gets in her way. She thinks about being happy no matter the cost._

_But she's played that game already. _

_It's time to play a new one._

_She gets back in the Mercedes and drives on._

* * *

The decision is made to head back to Storybrooke come morning. Part of this is owed to the fact that emotions are running high, and plans on how to handle any potential issues (such as vengeful natives) still need to be made, but mostly, it's the realization that today is still Henry's birthday that slows everyone.

If tomorrow brings pain and sorrow and perhaps even death, well then at least today and tonight will be something worth remembering, Regina tells herself.

Henry, of course, shows the relentless boyish optimism that Regina remembers well. He insists that everything will work out. He is certain that the town that had wanted her dead five years earlier will suddenly now welcome her home warmly.

Even Emma seems skeptical about this.

Not that either of them mention such to him. Not for now, at least.

Instead, Regina busies herself trying to find a place to take Emma and Henry for dinner. Something suitably upscale and fancy, something befitting a queen, a prince and a princess. It's not until she looks back at them and really gazes at the two people that she has missed so deeply and dearly that she realizes that such a night would be all wrong for them. It's not what they would want.

So she makes a different call instead.

It's around four in the afternoon when there's a knock on the door. Regina, who has been sitting on the couch in the living room, listening to Henry and Emma tell stories about their lives over the last five years (Emma has finally incorporated her bail bondsman instincts into the job, and spends less time waiting to get hit first. Henry has become quite the writer, even going so far as to do a for credits internship at the Daily Mirror), puts down her cup of tea and stands up.

"Expecting someone?" Emma asks, eyebrow lifted. Her hand slips around to the back of her jeans, and then she remembers that she's not actually packing.

"Indeed."

She makes her way to the door, and opens it, revealing a young man in his early twenties. The kid is handsome enough, but vaguely greasy. He looks like he's a wannna-be wheeler and dealer, all the way down to his ridiculously loud threads.

"Yo, Gina-baby," the kid says with a lazy smirk.

Regina rolls her eyes at this, but Emma notes with some curiosity that the former queen doesn't seem terribly annoyed by the man or his rather disrespectful – and oddly familiar - greeting. "Judo. Were you able to obtain what I needed?"

"When have I ever let you down, love?"

"Mm. I'm not sure you know how to count that high, dear."

He shrugs. "Yeah, well, I didn't let you down this time." He holds up his hand and dangles a keychain. "She looks good. Very good. Like I told you she would."

"Very well," she says as she takes the keys. "Then you may come in."

She steps aside and allows him entry. That's when he sees Emma and Henry. His eyes widen almost comically as he takes in the blonde. "Damn, you said you had company, but wow, that's some high quality ass, Momma."

"Hey!" Henry says immediately, standing up.

Regina steps behind him, settling a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. "It's all right, Henry. My…friend here means no harm or disrespect. His decidedly limited vocabulary stunts his speech and much like your mother, causes him to disregard his filter and say cringe worthy things." She smiles at Judo when she says this, and it's clear that the boy isn't bothered by her words, has probably heard them a time or two. She motions to Emma then. "Judo, meet Emma."

"Wait, Emma, you mean the Emma 'Miss Swan' Emma?" Judo asks, his mouth just about falling open. Then to Regina, "But I thought…I thought you were…"

"I was. They found me," Regina says softly. "And it's all right that they did. It's better than all right, actually."

"Oh. Okay. " Then to Emma," Uh, ma'am." He holds out his hand to her. "Sorry about the hot ass bit, though, you do have one, I mean."

"Yeah, thanks. Call me Emma," the blonde says, standing up and stepping towards him so as to shake his hand. "And you are?" She wonders if she should be jealous, but this man just isn't Regina's type. Even when she's with men, they've always been masculine and muscular. Judo is quite the opposite.

"Uh, James Jones the Fifth, ma'am. But everyone just calls me Judo." He suddenly seems just a little bit nervous around her. Curious.

"And I'm Henry," the boy inserts, stepping forward with his hand outstretched.

This seems to calm Judo's nerves, and he smiles as he takes Henry's hand. "Yeah, yeah. If this is Emma Swan, then of course you're Henry. Heard lots about you, dude. Good to finally meet you, my man."

"Wait? You talked about us?" Emma asks, her surprise evident. Regina has always been a woman who hides everything behind walls and doors and masks. It's hard to imagine her opening up to anyone. Especially a kid like this. Unless…

"It's been a long five years. Some things got out."

"What she means is, I blackmailed her," Judo chuckles. Then, eyes widening as he sees the scandalized looks coming at him, "I mean, not literally and not in a creepy way or anything because she's like old and my mom's age and oh she has that look that she gets right before she tries to kill me."

"Shut up, Judo," Regina growls out, but even there, Emma hears more than a slight hint of humor in the former queen's tone. "What he means is that he annoyed me until I answered a few questions. He asked the right questions."

"Okay, I'm completely lost here," Emma announces, her frustration finally overwhelming her. Looking right at Regina, she demands, "What's going on? Who is this guy, Regina, and does he know about you being on the run?"

"He does," Regina admits. "And he's been how I've been avoiding you."

"Him? This guy? You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"And there's that broken filter of yours that I have missed so very much," Regina notes dryly, but with the same good humor as before. Then, smiling, "Actually, I'm not kidding at all. Judo here was loaned out to me by a friend of yours."

"What friend?"

"Eddie Wilton."

"My old boss here in Boston?" Then, realizing, "Wait a minute, I've been working with Eddie for years to try to track you down, but every time I got close…"

Regina simply smiles at this, the look sad and knowing.

"I did what I had to do," she says.

* * *

_Five Years Earlier._

_She couldn't be more out of place here. While not everyone in this little office is a criminal (in fact, most aren't, most are actually the all-too-trusting and loving family members of those who have gotten themselves into in trouble with the law), there's a kind of cold desperation around the room that she finds unsettling._

_It's not that she – of all people – doesn't recognize the emotion, it's just that right now, she can't allow herself to indulge in it._

_Right now, she needs to stay focused._

_She makes her way to the receptionist, a small pretty red-haired girl. "Hello," the former queen says stiffly, primly. "I have an appointment with Mr. Wilton."_

_The girl looks up and blinks. She's used to seeing different kinds of characters here, but rarely has she seen a woman that looks quite so…well the only word she can come up with is regal. Regina's no longer in Emma's sweatshirt. Instead, she's in slacks and a nice dress shirt, a sharp charcoal blazer completing the look. The only sign that she might actually belong here is the look of exhaustion in her eyes. That and the slightly desperate and frantic set to her jaw._

_It's been two days since she'd driven away from Storybrooke. She's tired and sore (she's rented a motel room the first night, but spent the second in the Benz, best not to let Emma know where she is by letting her track her stays so easily). _

_Now she's here, at Emma's previous place of employment. What she's doing is risky, and could easily backfire badly, but if it doesn't, it's her strongest play. _

_Her best shot._

"_And you are?" the girl finally asks._

_"My name is Regina. I called Mr. Wilton yesterday to set up the appointment."_

"_Oh yes, of course."_

"_Please let Mr. Wilton know that this is quite urgent, and I am on a timeline." _

_The girl smiles at this because everything that happens here in this office is urgent. "He'll be right out to see you, ma'am. If you'll just take a seat."_

_Regina frowns at this, but does as she's told, retreating into the waiting room. She finds a seat somewhat alone, but not far enough away for her liking. She understands misery and betrayal better than most, but the depth of pain surrounding her is almost too much. She doesn't know whether to laugh at these people for their naivety or to cry for them because of their unbreakable faith._

_Thankfully, the appearance of Eddie Wilton keeps her from doing either._

"_Regina?" he growls out. She looks up at him, and isn't one bit surprised to see a short stocky man in his mid fifties. His voice is gravely, like he has a two pack a day smoking habit. "Come with me," he says once he sees her._

_She reminds herself that this isn't the time to chafe at orders being given. Instead, she simply stands and follows him back to his office._

_Once they're in it – it's messy and covered in paperwork and Boston Red Sox paraphernalia – he gets right to the point. "You said you had a business proposition for me. One that could pay me very well."_

"_I do."_

"_You have to understand," Eddie says. "Usually people come to me for money, not the other way around." He lights a cigarette then, not bothering to ask if she's okay with it. She fixes him with a stern look, but he's clearly unimpressed._

_Yes, she thinks, he's probably dealt with more than a few women who think themselves better than him. He probably doesn't much care for her, thinks her a snooty silly bitch. That he's meeting with her now, well it's due to curiosity._

"_You have a unique skill," she tells him, staring right at him._

"_Hardly," he shrugs. "There are bond shops everywhere around this city."_

"_True," she admits. And she knows this from her investigation of Emma after the blonde had first arrived in Storybrooke. It's how she knows who this man is as well. "But only you employed Emma Swan."_

_And now she has his attention. He tilts his head. "What of her?"_

"_I need your help in regards to her."_

"_Is she in trouble?"_

"_No. I am. And she's going to come looking for me."_

"_I'm not in the business of protecting felons."_

"_Well then it's a good thing that I'm not a felon, dear," Regina answers, her tone unintentionally haughty. "In fact, I'm not a criminal at all." She reaches over and picks up a glass mug emblazoned with the Red Sox symbol, then presses her fingers around it. "You can check my prints if you'd like. I'm sure you will."_

"_All right, if you're not a bad guy, then why are you running from Swan?"_

_And this is where it gets really risky. To get this man to help her, she has to tell him just enough truth. She has to make him understand without sending up flags._

"_She's my ex," Regina answers, shifting a bit. Her movements aren't indicative of a lie, but rather the awkwardness of the admission. It seems both like too much and not nearly enough to explain and describe her relationship with Emma._

"_As in lover?"_

"_Is there another kind of ex?"_

"_I have three ex-wives."_

"_Yes, well, we were certainly not that, but we were together. Intimately."_

"_And now you're not," he states, eying her curiously. He's probably trying to figure out why a woman like Emma would be interested in someone like Regina. After a moment, he seems to drop this line of thought. She imagines that in his business, he's seen more than his fair share of odd lovers._

"_By my choice, not hers."_

_His eyebrow lifts, and she sees the skepticism there. "She do something to you?"_

"_Never. Miss Swan is always…heroic."_

_He nods at this, like the description sounds accurate. "So then…"_

"_I have a fairly ugly past, Mr. Wilton, and while it's not criminal here, it is violent and vengeful. I got away, but…suffice it to say, that past of mine wants nothing more than to make me pay for…leaving. It will keep coming after me and everything I love and hold dear to me until it destroys me completely."_

"_You're talking another lover now?"_

"_I am. And I think you and I both know that Emma is not the type to scare easily no matter the threat. She wants to try to protect me. She wants to try to be my…knight in shining armor." She practically spits the last words out. "Her attempts to do so were going to end in pain and possible death for her. I couldn't allow that to happen. So I left." It's not quite the truth (but then again, neither was the initial description of her past), but by the look she sees on Wilton's face and in his eyes, it's a compelling story and she can tell that he buys it. _

"_All right, I get it, lady, you're trying to take care of your girlfriend by running away from her. Aside from telling you that that rarely works out like you think it will, what is it that you need from a guy like me?"_

"_Emma is probably still reeling from my abrupt departure, but once she finally collects herself enough to think straight, it's likely that she's going to reach out for help in locating me. She told me once that you were the magic behind the curtain, the one always able to find anyone. Considering all of that, I think it's safe to assume that she'll come to you for assistance."_

"_So you want me to lie to her?"_

"_No, I want you to help her. I want you to give her as many false leads as possible until the day she finally understands that she has to let me go. I want you to…" she takes a breath before continuing. "I want you to lead her down enough paths to crush her hope of ever finding me."_

"_That's cold."_

"_It's also necessary."_

"_So let me get this right: you want me to lie to one of the best employees that I've ever had, and a genuinely good hearted woman that actually cares for you."_

"_Yes, and I will pay you very very well to do so." She takes a piece of paper out of her purse and pushes it over to him. She just barely suppresses a smile when she sees the way his eyes practically bulge. "This will be sent to you via mail once a month for the length of our agreement. It's not enough to retire on, perhaps, but certainly enough to help you live very comfortably, I would think."_

_He nods at this, his eyes still on the paper. "I need to check you out."_

"_Do that. And when Emma finally calls to talk to you, I want you to listen – really listen - to what she says. You'll hear the same thing, the desperation in her voice. You'll know the same thing I do, that she won't stop looking for me unless she runs out of ways to find me. I want more than that for her."_

_And now that, well that was the truth. So are the tears burning in her eyes._

"_All right. I'll run a background on you, and we'll go from there."_

"_Thank you. I have one more favor to ask."_

"_Oh?"_

"_Emma told me that you had quite a few resources around the town. I need one that can help me change who I am. I can't run and hide if I'm still Regina."_

"_True enough. I have a guy, and if you check out, I'll give you his name."_

_She nods. "Acceptable." She stands then. "I'll be in touch, Mr. Wilton." And with that, she turns and leaves the office, leaving him staring after her with a frown._

* * *

_It's three days later when she finally calls to ask him if he's decided whether or not to help her. He asks her to meet at a diner nearby. It's another risk, she knows, because if Emma has called and he's chosen to help the blonde, then it very well could be an ambush, and she has little faith that she can resist Emma's offer of running away and being a family of three twice._

_Thankfully – or perhaps regrettably – Eddie Wilton is alone when she arrives. She slides into the seat opposite him, then nods out a quick thanks when a waitress puts down a cup of coffee. "Mr. Wilton," she greets._

"_Mayor Mills," he says._

_Her eyebrow lifts. "I suppose that answers that question."_

"_Actually," he counters. "I found that out from your background check, which by the way, was clean as a whistle, though I guess you already knew that."_

"_I've made mistakes, but not those kind," Regina admits, and then says no more._

"_So I talked to Emma."_

"_And?"_

"_And she loves you. She tried to play it off for awhile like you were a common criminal that she was chasing, but I know her, she doesn't get emotional over marks, never has. She was clearly quite upset about you, though."_

_It's a bit funny how much these words hit her. For a moment, she finds herself short of breath. She'd like to blame it on almost a week of sleeping in her car waiting around for the next step, but she knows better. This is about someone else actually confirming that yes, Emma does love her._

_It makes her both ridiculously happy, and terribly sad._

_It also helps her understand that she'd made the right decision. At this understanding, she wonders again when it was that she'd come to care about someone else's happiness above her own. When had that changed for her?_

"_What did she tell you about why I left?"_

"_Mostly same thing you did. Someone from your past was after you, and she wants to find you before they do. She sounded pretty desperate."_

_Regina nods at this. She'd anticipated Emma using such a story; it's the best one to cultivate sympathy and to break down resistance. Everyone is drawn to the tale of a woman endangered. Even a grizzled veteran like Eddie Wilton._

_She's also not surprised that Emma had left Henry out of the story. It hardly fits with a quick easy narrative of a woman trying to save her lover. A child brings on more questions; ones that Emma likely wouldn't want to answer. Or couldn't._

"_So will you help me?" Regina queries between sips of her coffee._

"_I don't want her getting hurt. She's a good kid."_

"_It's the last thing I want as well," Regina confirms._

"_Then yes, I'll help you. I'll push her bad leads."_

"_And your man?"_

_Wilton nods. He hands Regina a business card that has an address on it. "You can find him here. His name is Judo. He's just a boy, but he does damned good work, and he can be useful in helping you find things. Not people, things."_

"_Then I'm sure he can assist me." She reaches into her jacket and extracts a thick envelope. "Your first payment for your assistance."_

"_How do you know you can trust me?"_

"_I don't, and honestly Mr. Wilton, I don't trust you, but I've been sleeping in my car for the last week, and I don't have the resources to disappear on my own. I need you to be who Emma believes you to be." She leans in then, a slight glint of malevolent malice in her dark eyes. "I truly hope you are that man."_

"_So do I," he grunts before taking the envelope from her and pocketing it. "How do I contact you to let you know whether or not she's still looking for you?"_

"_You don't. I don't want to know. If I do, I'm not sure I'm strong enough to keep hiding from her. Not long term anyway." Yes, she thinks, it's definitely the exhaustion and fatigue of a week without much sleep that's opening her up._

"_So will I hear from you again?"_

"_Only when you receive my monthly payment. Beyond that, Mr. Wilton, I would think not." And with that, she stands up and leaves the booth, her walk almost seductively slow, and her hips swaying as the door clangs loudly behind her._

* * *

_Judo is just a hair over eighteen years of age, but he claims he's twenty-one. He's also completely unable to pull his eyes away from her cleavage when she steps into the garage he's tinkering away in. "You Regina?" he asks, eyes still low._

"_Up here, dear," she comments dryly. "And yes. You're Judo, I presume?"_

"_I am," he nods, and then smiles. It reminds her a bit of Henry, so full of youthful energy and joy. Of course, she rather hopes that Henry doesn't end up working in a garage and forging fake identification cards. "I hear you need a new life."_

"_Again," she says, but chooses not to elaborate. She hands him her license. "Nothing too extreme, I have no real desire to completely change who I am. I've always been terrible at remembering too many names."_

_Not quite the truth, but not exactly a lie, either. One of the secrets that she's always kept to herself is just how long it'd taken her to remember the new names of all of the people in Storybrooke. She has a vague memory of calling Ruby by her real name more than a few times, much to the girls' confusion._

"_So no Gloria then, huh?"_

"_Do I look like a Gloria?"_

"_Nah. You look like a Regina. Okay, so you don't want to change much, we can work with that. Your last name is super common. Let's see how common your first name is." He steps over to a computer and types in Regina Mills. "Eh, there aren't a ton of you. A good amount, but not a ton, but if we shorten you up…"_

"_Gina?" she asks with some distaste._

"_Or Gloria. Your choice, baby?"_

_She considers admonishing him for such a disrespectful term, but chooses not to. She needs his help right now, and verbally spearing him to the wall isn't likely to help with getting it. With a sigh, she concedes, "I'll go with Gina."_

"_Excellent." He looks her over again, eyes skittering once again across her cleavage. She supposes she should find it vaguely skeezy, but he seems more like the kid trying to sneak eyefuls of his fathers' Playboy than an actual perv._

"_How long will it take to get me new identification?" she asks. "I've been living in my car, and I would like to actually find somewhere more comfortable to stay."_

"_Papers will take a few days. I need to build you a credit profile, too."_

_Her eyebrow lifts. She understands some of this thanks to her reading and researching, but honestly, such things as technology are beyond her._

_Thankfully, this kid gets it._

"_But I do have a buddy who knows better than to ask any questions. If you have enough cash, he can set you up in an empty hotel room for a few days."_

_It sounds vaguely dirty, but after a week of tweaked muscles, and a sore back, she's willing to take her chances. "That would be appreciated."_

"_Cool. Heyo, nice car out there," Judo says then, his eyes out towards the street._

"_Hm?"_

_He points towards the Mercedes. "She's old and beautiful."_

"_You're a fan of the brand, I take it?"_

"_I am. My pops and I used to work on old cars like her. I mean, we worked on some from the sixties, and she's not nearly that old, but yeah, she's tops."_

"_Judo, dear, how about I make you a deal?"_

_It's rather strange the deals she's been making. She's starting to understand why Rumple has always enjoyed them, and yet she also understands better than ever the wary fear of such bargains. Any one of these people could betray her._

_And the problem is, she knows that she's not nearly strong enough to care if they do. If they do, and Emma finds her, there's no way she's walking away from the blonde again, no matter what hatred might eventually grow there instead of love._

_And Snow and Charming? Well they can go fuck themselves, frankly speaking._

"_What kind of deal?" Judo prompts._

"_On top of the payment I was already going to supply you with for helping me create this new ID, if you ensure that my paperwork is top-notch, utterly unassailable, and you ensure that I am able to use my credit to obtain whatever it is that I need whenever it is that I need it, I will gift you that vehicle."_

"_Really? Seriously."_

"_Yes. Really, seriously. I was going to have to sell it anyway. My ex is a sheriff so I'm sure that there are already cops out there looking for that license plate. I figure that the car might as well go to someone who might appreciate her."_

"_You got yourself a deal, Gina, baby."_

_This time, she can't help herself. She glares at him. "No."_

"_Sorry," he says with an apologetic shrug. And then his eyes drop again._

_She sighs, but for the first time in almost a week, she thinks she can breathe._

* * *

"Judo has been helping me out for the last five years," Regina sums up.

"So he's like Sydney?" Henry asks, studying the older boy intensely.

"No, dear, no one is like Sydney." Then, frowning. "Tell me he's not still in the asylum?" She looks to Emma for an answer, but the blonde is still staring ahead, looking utterly dumbstruck by what she's just learned. "Emma?"

"Eddie lied to me," Emma says finally, eyes wide. "I don't fucking believe it."

"He believed you could be hurt," Regina tells him. "He cared for you."

"And you used that to keep me from finding you."

"Yes."

"And he never told you I was looking?"

"If he had, I would have let you find me. Turns out, I guess, Gold knew where I was all along. If you'd just threatened him better…"

"Oh, I threatened him plenty good," Emma drawls. Then, to Judo, "But she told you about me and Henry? Even though she didn't tell Wilton."

He looks at Regina as if asking for permission to speak. A small smile provides it. "She said I reminder her of Henry," Judo says with a bit of an uncomfortable shrug of his shoulders. "I think she said that just to keep me from…"

Regina cuts him off with a clearing of her throat. "Yes, anyway." She fixes him with a hard – and yes, slightly motherly – glare, which he creeps back from.

Emma notes with a hint of amusement that Henry doesn't seem one bit amused by the relationship between his long-lost mother and Judo. In fact, he seems downright perturbed and just a little bit jealous. Good, Emma thinks, after all this time, Regina deserves to know just how much her son has missed her.

"So why are you here now?" Henry asks. "I mean, right now."

"I'm here to bring you your birthday present, my man."

"This is my birthday present," Henry states. "Being here with my mothers."

"Maybe," Regina says softly. "But I got you something else. It's not much, but…" she opens her hand and holds out keys to him. "I gave the Mercedes to Judo five years ago. He's been tinkering with it since, but never sold it again. Until today when he sold it back to me. And now – with Emma's permission – it's yours."

Henry looks at Emma, who simply shrugs her shoulders, then back at Regina. A moment later, he's in her arms again, and though he's thanking her for the car, he's saying so much more with the tight hug and the word, "Mom."

It's enough to make Judo realize that he's interrupting something that he's not actually a part of. Looking uncomfortable, he steps backwards, towards the door. "Dinner will be here in an hour, Gina, baby. Exactly what you ordered."

She looks up at him, tears running down her face. "Thank you."

"You take care," he says, and there's some sadness to his voice, like he thinks maybe he's seeing her for the last time. He probably is, Emma realizes.

Regina looks at Henry, and he nods his head, suddenly understanding that this young man could never have taken his place in his mothers' life, but that Judo had been there for her. That's enough to earn Henry's respect. He watches then as Regina steps forward and puts her arms around Judo.

It's strange, he thinks, because in all of his time pre his mothers' exile, he can only remember seeing her hug two people willingly – he and Emma.

Time changes people truly. Sometimes for the best.

She touches Judo's cheek, holds the contact for a moment and then nods at him as if releasing him from her service. He smiles, and looks at Emma, "Be good to her. Don't make her come back to me asking to be Gloria."

"I won't," Emma promises.

He smiles again, then steps back and exits, shutting the door behind him.

"A lot has happened," Emma says after a moment.

"A lot hasn't," Regina replies with a soft chuckle. "Five years later and this is still all I want." She motions to Emma and Henry.

"Five years ago, you wouldn't have said that."

"I've watched a lot of Oprah," the former queen admits, her tone as dry as paper.

"Apparently." And then they just gaze at each other, like there's so much to say, but neither quite knows where to start. Five years is a long time, and most people move forward and on. They're not most people, though.

"Hey," Henry says suddenly, enthusiasm flooding through him. "I want to see the Mercedes? Can we go see it?"

"Of course," Regina says. "It's parked right outside." Then to Emma, "Did you drive here in that deathtrap of yours? Is it still running?"

"Yes and yes."

"Not really well," Henry counters.

"Well, perhaps we don't have to drive back to Storybrooke in it then, hmm?"

She smiles when she says this, but it's clear that though she's teasing, she's not really joking. She has absolutely no intention of driving in that damned thing.

* * *

"Is he finally sleeping?" Emma asks as she steps behind Regina. They're in the study, which has – thanks to several thick blankets – been converted into a makeshift second bedroom. Henry, for his part, is passed out atop them.

"It's been a long day," the former queen says with a smile, her eyes twinkling as she gazes down at the strong grown form of her sixteen year old son. When this day had begun, she'd been in misery thinking about him. And now here he is.

Here they both are.

"Yeah. I think we can all use the sleep," Emma suggests as she takes Regina by the hand and pulls her from the study (only after both women press a kiss down onto Henry's temple, Regina holding hers there for a moment longer than is probably necessary). "Tomorrow is going to be an even longer day."

"It could end badly," the brunette says. "It could end just as it did before."

"Or we could break the curse with a kiss," Emma laughs, and it's clear that even though she's already lived and experienced such a kiss, the idea of being part of one again is just a little bit unsettling to her.

"You really think what we have is actually True Love?" Regina asks, genuinely curious. "After all this time?"

"I think true love can't read a clock or a calendar," Emma tells her as she leads Regina back into the bedroom, shedding her sweatshirt as she closes the door behind them. "My parents were separated for twenty-eight years. Didn't matter."

"Mm. But your parents are insufferable," Regina lobs back, fingers tracking up to unbutton her own shirt. There appears to be complete understanding between them about what's about to happen. About what they both want to happen.

"Let it go."

"Oh, believe me, dear, I have. All this time out here, I have. But they're still insufferable, and no matter what happens, I hope you don't think –"

"I know you and my mom will never share Thanksgiving with each other."

"No, we won't, but I promise you, I'm over caring about what she did to me."

"She's not."

"What?"

Emma smiles. "Can we talk about that later? Right now…I've missed you." She reaches up then and runs the tips of her fingers along the smooth flesh of Regina's left cheek, feeling the almost velvety skin beneath her touch.

"Have you? And what is that you expect to happen here this evening that will remedy that, Sheriff?" the older woman asks, an eyebrow lifted.

Emma backtracks, wondering if she'd misunderstood this entire situation, wondering if maybe the feelings she has for Regina aren't as shared as –

Her thought process is cut off by Regina grunting, "Oh honestly, stop thinking, it really isn't your strong suit, Miss Swan," and then the feel of lips crashing hard against her own, the sheer force and passion of them startling.

"Sorry," Emma finally replies. "I just…"

"Yes, I know, you confused me taking off my shirt for me wanting to do my laundry," Regina chuckles as she presses her lips against the long smooth column of Emma's neck, allowing her tongue to slip out and taste the skin there.

"Can't we do both?" Emma asks, her breathing quickly growing erratic.

"Your mouth has better uses than trying to be clever," Regina teases.

"True," Emma answers, and then reaches out and with both hands, shoves the former mayor back onto the queen-sized bed. With a triumphant grin, she pulls her shirt over her head, follows it with her bra and then moves to cover the beautiful woman lying there. "I missed you," she says.

"I'm right here," Regina answers.

"Yes, you are." Emma leans in then and presses her mouth against Regina's, putting everything she can into the kiss.

She tries to tell her that this is love. Even true love.

She tries to say that she would have been happy here, both she and Henry would have been had they just been given the choice.

She tries to say that she no longer cares about the mistakes of the past.

All she cares about is this.

And when Regina cries out a few minutes later, as waves of ecstasy and pleasure crash through her, Emma leans in and again says the words.

"I love you," she whispers. Then says it again.

This time, Regina repeats the words.

* * *

It's hour later when Emma wakes up. For a moment, she's disorientated and confused, uncertain of where she is.

And then she remembers.

She spins to the side.

"I'm right here, my dear," she hears, and sees Regina lying there, head propped up by her elbow and hand, dark eyes intensely watching her.

"Sorry, I just…"

"I know. I wanted to make sure it was real, too."

"It is," Emma assures her. She reaches out and pulls Regina to her, spinning her body so that the brunette is lying against her. "Sleep," she says, a hand rubbing down the length of one of Regina's arms. "In a few hours, we head home."

"And then what?"

"Then we deal with whatever happens. Good or bad. But we deal as a family." She weaves her hand into Regina's then, and squeezes it tight. A few seconds pass, and then Regina returns the squeeze.

The last thing Emma sees before she falls asleep again is a gray sweatshirt folded up atop the dresser. Its cuffs are worn, and its color is badly faded.

It's familiar, she thinks. And perhaps she even voices this thought aloud because a moment later, she hears a low rumbling chuckle, and then Regina says softly, "It should be familiar, it's yours."

Sleep comes quickly and easily after that.

**TBC…**

**Next up, finally, we return to SB. Yay!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** This one got crazy long, but I decided to leave it all as one giant chapter. Apologies for the delay - I blame the LChat ladies for distracting me.

Anyway, I hope that this conclusion to this little tale of my satisfies. I appreciate all the kind words received throughout. They have been well received.

As an aside, I'll be doing a re-edit very soon.

Content note: some salty language, and some very mild sexual situations.

Again, thank you very much.

* * *

It's the smell of cooking bacon that pulls her out of the peaceful slumber that she's been enjoying for the last few hours. Slowly, lazily, Emma opens up her bleary green eyes and looks around her. For the second time since she arrived here, she finds herself slightly disorientated, but the feeling clears up quicker on this go-round. She knows where she is, however improbable it might be. She's in the bedroom of the former Evil Queen. More specifically, she's in Regina's bed.

The almost unbelievable events of the day prior flow over her like warm water, and a dopey smile pushes its way forth as she recalls rather vividly the frantic touches, passionate kisses and erotic sounds of the previous night. She hadn't come to Boston with Henry expecting to spend the evening with her former lover, but then, she hadn't actually expected to ever see Regina again, either.

Certainly not after five years of looking for her and coming up painfully empty.

She frowns at this. When this is all over, she thinks, she and Eddie Wilton are going to have themselves a bit of a talk. While she's well aware of Regina's manipulative abilities, she's none too pleased at her former boss for lying to her.

However well intentioned his reasons might have been.

The sound of joyous laughter peels her away from these darker thoughts. She pushes herself up from the bed, sighing at the pleasant soreness in her muscles. She shakes out her shoulders and back, allowing for a soft moan as her body all but sighs in pleasant relief. It's not as though she's been celibate for the last five years, but there's something incredibly relaxing and freeing about spending the night with the one person in the world that you actually want to be with.

It certainly doesn't hurt when that person is hell on wheels in the sack.

Emma chuckles at this, silently mocking her own cloying (if somewhat classless) sentimentality. It's not at all like her to be so romantically inclined, and yet right now, if doing so would guarantee that she would never lose Regina again, she knows damn well that she'd get her ass up and run herself down to the nearest florist in order to buy up every flower they had just because she could.

She won't, though, because such grand romantic gestures are not her (nor is Regina the type to be touched or awed by flowers – at least the old Regina hadn't been - and it seems to her that both she and the former queen have spent more than enough time being people that they're not. Regina isn't this quiet and docile Gina Mills and Emma, well she's not a woman who can just pretend that she's all right with losing someone that she loves.

She thinks that maybe she's pretended enough. They both have.

Emma looks around the room for her clothing – those which had been messily and hastily discarded during the events of the previous evening. She isn't one bit surprised to find the jeans and sweatshirt that she'd been wearing neatly folded up for her on the dresser. She is, however, a bit thrown when she sees a pair of men's boxer shorts - colored blue - sitting atop the pile. She notes with relief that they're still taped up, which indicates that no one has worn them previously.

Trying not to wonder about who these boxer shorts were bought for, she dresses quickly and then exits the bedroom, coming to an abrupt (and thankfully for once, quiet) halt in the doorway as she sees what's happening in the kitchen.

Mother and son are standing there together, the two of them at the grill. Regina is slightly bent forward, flipping bacon and making pancakes. Well, at least she's trying to do these things. Henry is behind her, an arm looped casually around her waist, both annoying her and keeping her from being able to cook efficiently.

And they're both laughing about it.

Teasing each other in a way that seems oddly familiar. Especially considering that Emma knows she's never seen this level of easy interaction between them before. It makes her wonder - certainly not for the first time - about what their relationship had been like before Henry had become aware of the book.

It's Regina who notices her first. The brunette is turning slightly away from Henry, reaching out to grab a few more pieces of raw bacon, when her dark eyes settle upon Emma, who is still leaning against the doorframe, a smile on her lips.

"Morning, Sheriff," Regina says with a small almost shy smile. It doesn't look right on her, but Emma finds the expression ridiculously adorable just the same.

"Morning. Smells good." She lifts her chin towards the grill.

"Yes, well, you're in luck," the brunette replies, turning back to face the grill. "I went shopping two days ago. Otherwise we'd be having bagels for breakfast."

"Which would still have been more than what we usually have at home. Ma and I usually have Captain Crunch for breakfast," Henry states with a wide grin. Then, in a conspiratorial whisper, he concludes with, "She still can't cook at all."

"Hey! You don't have to tell her all of my secrets so quickly," Emma admonishes.

Regina looks over at her, a perfectly sculpted eyebrow (some things haven't changed) rising up in an amusement. "Did you think that was a secret, dear? I'd assumed your gross ineptitude into the kitchen was a well known fact."

"Okay, so true, but I don't think we need to actually rub it in," Emma grouses, moving deeper into the kitchen. It's weird, but as much as she loves seeing Henry with an arm slung around his adopted mother, she finds herself rather selfishly wishing that she could take his place right about now.

"Perhaps not," Regina agrees with her trademark smirk. She then laughs and playfully swats Henry's hand away from her. "Go set the table, you little brat."

"Whatever you want, Mom," he says, releasing his hold on his brunette mother, and then reluctantly stepping back. Then, with an entirely too cheeky smile, the boy who still has her son's eyes, but now - five long years later - has a much different personality, says, "I'm sure you two want to pick up where you left off."

"What's that mean?" Emma asks, eyes wide with something that looks like panic. What's worse is that she knows that she's probably blushing more than a little bit.

It's a problem that Regina doesn't seem to be sharing. In fact, the former queen has a look on her face that seems oddly curious, and just a little bit proud.

Henry chuckles in response. "Thin walls," he says with a dismissive way of his hand and then turns and heads away, off to go set the table as instructed.

"Miss Swan, what the hell have you done to our son?" Regina demands, but she's clearly teasing, her tone light and her eyes brighter than they've been in years. Perhaps this is the meaning of true happiness, Regina thinks to herself.

And maybe all of that ends later on today – once they return home - but for now, she's completely content to just be sharing space with Emma and Henry. Completely content to have them back with her. To be able to show love again.

"He grew up," Emma answers gently, and because she knows her words will hurt no matter the tone she utilizes, she tries to soften them up by taking Henry's place behind Regina, and pulling the older woman to her chest, enjoying the feel of warm soft curves against her lean body. She presses a light kiss to Regina's neck, allowing her lips to linger there for a few seconds. "You smell good."

"Well since I'm not wearing anything yet, I think what you think you're smelling, my dear Sheriff, is that of bacon cooking," Regina answers breathily, her head lolling back slightly so as to offer Emma just a little bit more skin to play with.

"Well, I am hungry," the blonde admits as she grazes teeth over warm flesh. The soft moan she gets in answer to this is enough to make her close her eyes.

"You know, I was actually joking about the two of you doing…you know, more stuff," Henry chuckles as he re-enters. He sweeps past them, smirks knowingly, picks up three plates, and then exits again, shaking his head in mock dismay.

"Cockblocked," Emma groans.

Regina's eyebrow shoots up. "Classy as always, I see."

"Yeah. Well, you try living with a sixteen year old boy who…" Emma stops then, realizing what she was about to say. She clears her throat and offers a slightly apologetic smile instead, not really sure what else to do.

"It's quite all right," Regina assures her, turning in Emma's arms so as to face the blonde full on. That she doesn't actually break the hold is something Emma both notices and is extremely thankful for. "I'm still a terribly jealous and vengeful woman underneath all of this…well whatever I've become over the last five years, but even I understand the need for…companionship from time to time."

"And have you?" Emma asks. "Had companionship? Is that who the boxer shorts I'm wearing belong to?" She winces a bit in disgust as she says this.

Regina laughs. "No. I wouldn't keep…" She shudders. "Just, no. I threw your own undergarments are into the wash with another load I had going. Your jeans and sweatshirt seemed to be all right. Everything else should be ready shortly."

"Thanks. So, if these boxers don't belong to an ex-lover, whose are they?"

Regina sighs, and then shrugs her shoulders. "They belong to the young man who was here last night - Judo. He has the worst taste in clothes. Worse than yours even. I tried shopping for him once, but as it turns out he prefers briefs to boxers." She chuckles a bit affectionately at the thought of this.

"He means something to you, doesn't he?"

"I suppose he does. Judo is certainly not Henry, but he's a young foolish boy with a good heart who grew up without a mother, and he let me…he let me be that for him. Because of him having to help me set up my new ID, and keep you off my trail, we worked together a lot in the first few weeks. I realized he had no one. He came along at a time when I needed someone to need me, I guess."

"So you bought him underwear?" Emma asks with a lifted eyebrow.

"And vegetables. Pretty sure he didn't eat them, though," the brunette laughs.

"You're such a mom," Emma says, and it's meant to be a compliment, but the slightly sad look Regina shoots her (disguised as a smile) makes her change subjects in a hurry. "Well, I'm glad you had someone, but I have to admit, I'm a bit jealous that you talked to him. Sometimes you wouldn't even talk to me."

"When did you start talking so freely about your feelings?" Regina queries.

"Time changes everyone."

"So, I see." Then, with another shrug. "You know who I am, Emma. Who I really am. He doesn't. Talking to him was easy. He doesn't know what a monster I am."

"You're right: I do know who you are," Emma nods, tightening her hold again. "And even if you are a monster – which you're not anymore - I love you right now as much as I loved you five years ago."

"Time has made you sentimental as well, my dear."

"I missed you."

"I know," Regina says softly. "But I won't apologize anymore. You don't agree, but I still believe that I did what I had to do. For once, I did what I thought was the honorable thing and I tried to think about someone else besides myself."

"If you say so, but I guess none of that really matters anyway because…"

"If you dare say because you found me, I will kill you where you stand," Regina threatens, the look just dangerous enough to be honest.

"Wouldn't think of it," Emma chuckles before leaning forward and pressing her mouth against Regina's, earning her another soft muffled groan.

"I am so not going to get to eat breakfast this morning, am I?" Henry asks with a put-upon sigh as he enters once more, this time to grab silverware.

"You're not wrong," Regina drawls once Henry is out of the room again, "He is a cockblocker." She rests her forehead against Emma's, sighing at the contact.

"Told you. Our boy is nothing if not…crafty."

"So I see," Regina replies, then shakes her head, dismay suddenly shining in her eyes. "I've missed so much of his life. I've missed how he became this man."

"He's not a man yet. No matter what he thinks," Emma replies, the tone dry. It seems clear that she and Henry have gone a few rounds over this. The boy is headstrong and stubborn, and likely thinks he's beyond the need for parenting.

Of course, his quest to find Regina, and reunite his mothers says otherwise.

"Isn't he? He went against Rumple. And won," Regina reminds her.

"And he still reads comic books on the toilet and eats Oreo cookies in bed."

Regina wrinkles her nose at this. "You really have been a bad influence on him."

"Probably, but I clearly did something right, too. Both of us did."

She glances towards the area where Henry is setting the table, all the while pretending that he can't hear the conversation that his mothers are having. "Was he angry at me when you told him I'd left? Did he hate me even more?"

Emma considers lying, but then finally shrugs her shoulders. There has been enough lies and distractions to last a life time. If they're going to face what they need to in order to return home and break the curse, they both know that they need to start being honest with each other. "No, he was heartbroken."

* * *

_Five Years Earlier._

_Henry Mills is an intelligent boy. Even at ten – almost eleven – he's smart enough to know when something is very wrong. It looks a whole lot like being woken up at five in the morning, and then dropped off with Red while his birth mother, who looks like she's about to burst into tears, takes off in a rush of squealing tires._

_When he asks questions, he gets deflectionary non-answers, and vague assurances that everything will work out as it should. Red – who seems entirely too sympathetic for the promises to actually be true - offers him cocoa and video games, but right now, he's a small child again and all he wants is his mother. _

_Either of them._

_Both of them preferably._

_When Emma finally arrives (alone, he notices with a sharp pang of fear) to pick him up, it is almost late afternoon, and she looks terrible. Her eyes are rimmed bright red, and he's seen his adoptive mother cry enough (this is an unsettling revelation for him) to know that Emma has clearly had one hell of a bad day._

_He knows without being told that the reason Emma is upset is somehow related to something that his dark-haired mother had done. What's weird, he notices, is that Emma doesn't look angry like she usually does when the former mayor has pissed her off by picking a stupid fight. _

_No, to his eyes, Emma looks upset. And really sad._

"_Emma?" he says as she walks him to the car. His hand is clutched tight in hers, which is odd enough. Emma hugs him more than Regina does, but she's still not much for abundant touching. This feels a bit clingy, a bit like she needs him._

_And frankly, this scares the shit out of him._

_Perhaps even more so than realizing that the Evil Queen had adopted him had._

"_Emma," he repeats after several long seconds of thundering silence have passed without a word from the blonde. "What's going on? Where's my mom?"_

"_Let's get home," Emma suggests, and then pulls him towards the Bug. _

_He stops moving, digging his heels into the cement. "No. Tell me now." And in that moment, he sounds exactly like his adoptive mother. Firm and unwavering._

"_Kid…"_

"_Don't 'kid' me, Emma, what's going on? Where's my mom?"_

_She sighs deeply, and then finally, she turns to face him, choosing to then drop to a knee in front of him. She places a shaking hand on each of his shoulders, the motion allowing her a few more moment to collect her thoughts. She licks her lips, and tries to find the words to explain a situation that she herself hasn't even begun to wrap her mind around. _

"_She's gone, Henry," Emma says finally, and she feels her heart creak and crack almost unimaginably as the words leave her dry lips._

_He shakes his head. "Gone…gone where?"_

"_She left town."_

_He gives her a look like he thinks she's gone completely mad. It's vaguely patronizing, somewhat indulgent. "No, she can't. The curse stops everyone."_

"_Not everyone apparently. Your mom cast the curse so she wasn't held here by those rules. She was able to cross the town line without forgetting who she was."_

"_Okay, fine, but why…why would she do that? You're here and I'm here. We're the only two things in the world she wants. You know that."_

"_I do," Emma says, and she blinks several times rapidly because she's suddenly quite certain that she's about to start crying again, and that's the very last thing that Henry needs to see. He needs her to be strong for him._

"_So did she have to meet with someone out there? When is she coming back?"_

"_She's not."_

"_What?"_

"_Henry, your mom isn't coming back."_

"_No. You're wrong. She wouldn't leave me," he insists, his tone suddenly very young and quite desperate. She thinks she sees his chin wobbling a bit._

"_She didn't think she had a choice," Emma tells him, and though this feels like a lie to her own troubled mind, she needs him to believe what she's telling him. _

"_Why not?" he demands. When she starts to speak, starts to weave a tale made for a child, he interrupts harshly. "No, don't lie to me. Tell me the truth. Why not?"_

_She takes a deep breath, and then looks her son right in the eyes, seeing his mirrored pain and heartbreak there. "Do you recall the group of people that went to see your mom after the curse broke?" She knows that she's underselling what those idiots led by Whale had actually been intending, but if Henry doesn't already know what they had meant to do to Regina, she isn't going to tell him._

_He nods his head, the wheels in his head turning rapidly. He cocks his head. "What did they do to her? Did they hurt her?" He suddenly seems defiant and full of anger, a little boy acting as though if given the chance, he'd gladly don a full suit of armor to protect the woman that not too long ago he'd treated terribly._

_But that'd been before, when everything had been black and white, and Evil Queens hadn't shown the desire to redeem themselves for the sake of love._

_Now, in the space of a five-minute conversation, it seems to her that he's suddenly grown so much older. In heart and mind if not body._

_Emma winces at his question. "No, they didn't do anything. She's all right. She's not hurt. Not physically anyway. She just…she had to leave. They…Henry, do you know what exile means? Have you ever heard that word before?"_

_She wonders if she has any business having such an honest conversation with him. Regina would probably lose her damned mind if she could hear this, but then again, Regina is currently wherever the hell she is. She'd skipped town leaving only a couple of goodbye letters and legal papers behind. _

_Leaving Emma as Henry's sole mother. _

_Which means it's now her job to decide how to talk to Henry, and how much to tell him. Apparently, her mind is overriding her heart and deciding to tell all._

"_I think so. It means…it means they…they kicked her out of Storybrooke?" Off Emma's nod, he again asks, "But why? Why would they do that?"_

_Why seems to be the question of the goddamned hour. Emma doesn't bother telling him that it's the same question that she, too, has been asking since she'd woken up alone earlier that day. Problem is, she's starting to understand that there is no easy answer. This world that they're in now, it has different rules._

_Rules that don't bend even when your lover is the Evil Queen and you yourself are the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming._

"_Your mother did…she did some bad things," Emma says finally, lamely._

"_I know, but she was trying to redeem herself," comes the impatient answer._

"_And I think as far as you and I were concerned, she was doing a good job of it, but she hurt a lot of people very badly, and some of those people weren't as forgiving as we are."_

"_You mean people like grandma and gramps."_

"_It's complicated," Emma hedges because as pissed off as she is at Snow and Charming right about now, she doesn't want to shift more anger towards them. That's what had stared this whole mess to begin with. Misplaced rage and blame._

_It's time for this vicious cycle to come to an end._

"_It's not. It's…she could have told them no. She could have refused to leave."_

_Emma bites her lip. This is where she draws the line on truth. There's no way that she's going to tell her son that Regina's only options were pretty much exile or death. That's too much honesty, and even she isn't dealing well with it._

_Especially since there actually was a third option on the table that she absolutely has no intention of telling Henry about. She can't imagine him dealing with Regina choosing to leave without them any better than she has. _

"_She didn't feel like she could," Emma says simply. "She felt like she had to do this to protect us." That's at least somewhat true, she reasons._

"_No. No, that's bullshit. Protecting us means staying with us. That's what's moms do," Henry whispers, tears now cascading down his face. _

_She doesn't bother admonishing him for his rare use of profanity. "Henry…"_

_He's breaking completely now, and she with him. "She's my mom. I love her."_

"_I know. I do, too." _

"_Then you have to find her. You're the Savior. That's what you do."_

"_Baby…"_

"_You have to, Emma. You have to save her. You have to bring her home."_

_She leans in then, her hand moving up to touch his face. "Okay. Okay. Listen to me. Your mom did what she felt like she had to do, but you're right, I don't accept that. And I am the Savior so I'm going to look for her, and I will keep looking until I find her. We are going to be a family, the three of us. I promise you that."_

_She's fairly certain that that's not what Regina would have wanted her to say to Henry. Her brunette lover (ex, she tells herself with a hint of anger and then takes it back almost immediately) would probably have wanted her to tell Henry that everything was going to be okay, and that the two of them would be enough to take on the world together. Or some other self-loathing bullshit like that._

_But Regina doesn't get to the run the show from the road._

"_Yeah?" Henry prompts, eyes wide and hopeful._

"_Yeah," she nods. "I promise."_

_He practically falls into her arms, then, and though they're in view of anyone who happens to walk by – she knows that Red is watching from the diner – she lets him cry. In fact, they have a good damn cry together._

* * *

"You made the wrong choice," Emma tells her, weaving her fingers into Regina's and squeezing. The decidedly warm gesture is meant to show forgiveness.

"I've had a lot of practice in doing that," the brunette answers dryly. "But for what it's worth, it seemed like the right one at the time." She looks towards Henry. "And it seems like it worked out better than I could have ever imagined."

She sighs then.

"What?" Emma prompts.

"There's a very strong part of me that wants to say to hell with Storybrooke. It says let's just stay here, just the three of us."

"Okay," Emma shrugs. "Then let's do that."

"Nope, no way, you two," Henry says as he enters the room. He walks towards his mothers, a small confident smile playing on his lips. "No more hiding. No more running. We are going home, and you two are going to break the curse."

"Henry, you're old enough to know now what they were going to do to me if I didn't leave town willingly," Regina tells him. She can feel Emma stiffen at the words, but curiously, the blonde doesn't actually deny them.

"I know," Henry nods. "They would have hung you." He says the words so matter-of-factly that neither mother is able to suppress the twin shudders that wind through their bodies. A boy his age should not be so blunt about execution.

"Yes," Regina admits, "And by the terms I agreed to with your grandmother, they have the right to put me back on trial again. And if convicted, I could face…"

She stops then because even although five years is a hell of a lot less than twenty-eight, she's changed enough to really feel like someone different. Where once there was pure fury and rage always boiling within her, now there's sadness and regret. But for once, with these two so close, there's hope as well.

She's not sure that she's strong enough to gamble with that hope.

"You won't be, don't worry," Henry assures her, reaching out to rest a warm palm atop her forearm. He squeezes, and says, "There won't be a trial. You two are going to break the curse, and then everything is going to be forgiven. People who want to leave and move on with their lives can. And we can get on with ours."

"And what if we want to get on with our lives here?" Emma suggests even though she knows that this conversation is already over. Henry has, if anything, gotten more stubborn over the years. When he makes a decision, he never lets it go.

He takes after both of his mothers in that way.

"You don't. You like having a close relationship with grandma and gramps. You even like being the sheriff of a little town. And mom, this isn't you."

"Maybe it is. What am I there?"

"You can be the mayor again."

"I'm sure your grandmother is that."

"No, actually," Emma says. "She did a two-year term, and pretty much hated it. Apparently being a mayor isn't the same thing as being a queen after all."

"Well, I could have told her that. But honestly, do you really think they'd re-elect me? I'm all for this…fairytale…of forgiveness, but…"

"I think you'll see that a lot of the people there have changed, too, mom," Henry says solemnly. "Just like when Emma came to town, when you left, things, well things happened. People changed. Everyone changed."

"Changed how?"

"I think some of them finally woke up and realized that they didn't want to go back to the past," Emma offers with a bit of a shrug. "I think maybe some of them finally understood that whatever your reasons for cursing everyone, some of them were actually better off because of it."

"I'm sure your mother loved that," Regina chuckles.

"I think you might be amazed at just how my mother has changed as well."

* * *

_Three Years Earlier._

_Perhaps if her mother wasn't the one running this ridiculous circus, she could have allowed herself to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all, but doing so right now would likely just upset Snow even more than she already is. And considering the fact that what Emma would really like to do right now is take out her gun and start shooting people, well it's probably best not to do anything at all._

_So she listens, all the while silently mocking almost everyone who speaks. She rather wishes that Henry was here with right now. He's developed quite the sense of whimsy, and would probably find much of this quite amusing._

_Not tonight, though. Tonight, her thirteen-year-old son is on his first date, and she's stuck here listening to a bunch of fairytale character bitch at each other._

_Honestly, she doesn't recall City Counsel meetings being quite this interesting when Regina had been the one with the gavel._

_Well except for the time that she'd walked right into one Regina's traps._

_This, on the other hand, is chaos. _

_Turns out that after two years of trying, a portal to "home" has finally been opened on the edge of town. It seems stable, but no one really believes it is because from time to time, it belches out purple smoke. There's the genuine fear amongst everyone that the doorway back to the old world could close very soon._

_Or that perhaps it should be closed now._

_That's what this meeting is about. That's what these people are fighting about._

_Some want it kept open, and want to return home to their supposed happily ever afters. They seem to think that back there, they won't be lowly plumbers anymore. Nevermind that before Storybrooke, they hadn't even been lowly._

_Others, like Archie, want to stay here and be who they are now._

_And then there are those like Michael Tillman. He wants to take his twins into the big world lurking on the other side of the line; he wants to see what there is to see. He wants them to go on a grand adventure together. He wants them to have the world, and here, that's actually possible in a way that wasn't in the old land._

_But still they argue._

_And her mother, for all the things she does well and all the respect she has amongst folks, can't seem to heal this fracture between her people. She can't seem to bring them to any kind of consensus or understanding with each other. _

_She starts to speak, gets interrupted, and then tries again._

_She's a former queen, but she'd been adored there and people had listened because of her title. She'd had her way, but she'd still been a queen, and no matter how much she wishes being a mayor were like that, it isn't at all._

_Afterwards, she walks with Charming and Emma down the hallway, back towards the redecorated – and hideously bright – mayor's office. "She was good at this," Snow mutters, and there's a look of surprise mixed with annoyance on her face._

"_Regina?" Charming prompts, his tone gentle._

"_Yes. Psychopath that she was, she was good at this. And I'm not."_

"_You're fine," he assures her. "You're doing fine."_

_She looks to Emma. "Do you think I am? Do you think I'm doing fine?"_

_Emma stalls for a moment because she knows that this is a loaded question. Regina has stood between them for the last two years, the one thing that Emma has technically forgiven her mother for, and yet still holds her responsible for. They rarely speak of the former queen, so this is certainly fragile ground._

"_You can tell me the truth," Snow says, stopping suddenly in the hallway. "You think she was better at this than I am."_

"_I didn't say that."_

"_But you know what? You wouldn't be the first," Snow laughs. "Can you believe that? Half of those people out there wanted to hang her in the middle of the town, and now, they wish she was still their mayor." She shakes her head in disgust._

"_We're at a crossroads," Charming suggests._

_Unfortunately for him, the one thing he hadn't done was deny her words. Snow spins on him, eyes wide. "You agree with them."_

"_What?"_

"_You think that if she was still here, this issue would be resolved, don't you?"_

"_Snow…"_

"_Oh my God…"_

_Charming looks to his daughter for help, but Emma just holds up her hand, and shakes her head. She's trying hard not to laugh because if doing so during the meeting would have been inappropriate, doing so now would be doubly so._

"_Honey, I didn't actually say anything."_

"_That fucking woman," Snow growls. Then her eyes snap to Emma. "And I didn't mean that in the way that you were."_

"_Wow, all right," Emma nods. "I think you need to sit down and take a breath."_

"_I think she's right, Snow. You're pretty agitated, honey."_

"_I know what I am," the brunette growls. "I'm sick of trying to lead these…people around when all they want to do is whine and complain and…"_

"_Easier to do it when you didn't actually have to listen unless you wanted to, huh?" Emma interrupts, cutting Snow off before the rant builds and explodes._

"_I don't know what you mean by that. I have always listened."_

"_Yeah, but they knew you didn't have to. You were the Good Queen, but you were still a queen. I've heard the stories. I know how much power you had back in your world. You never had to answer to the people there. You do here."_

"_And I suck at it," Snow says, shoulders sagging._

"_No, you don't," Charming tells her. "It's just maybe…"_

"_Maybe here you're a teacher and not a mayor," Emma suggests, her tone soft now. This is no longer about Regina, no matter how much Snow tries to push the former queen into the conversation. This is about Snow and who she is now._

_And she's not a mayor or a queen._

_These days, she's Mary Margaret with the ability to shoot a bow and arrow. Or at least she wishes she were that person. Emma kind of wishes she were as well._

"_They need me to be more," Snow says softly._

"_Who cares what they need," Charming tells her, and yes, this is easier for him because he's fully embraced his job as Emma's deputy (nevermind the odd squabbles and debates that they get into from time to time thanks to that decidedly atypical working arrangement), but he still understands the conflict. _

_Going from a prince (almost a king) to a cop had been a strange change._

_But one that he finds suits him._

_He doesn't mind leading into battle, but he finds that he lacks the desire to stare at pages full of numbers. Budgets and requisition forms are things he could frankly do without ever seeing again, and he suspects Snow could as well._

"_But…" Snow protests weakly._

"_No buts. Go back to what you love," Emma prompts. "You're in this new world as much as everyone else is. And I know you don't want to go back over there."_

"_I don't," she admits._

"_Then finish out your term, and let this be someone else's problem. I'm sure there are other leaders in this town. People who like numbers," Emma insists._

"_They'll all be compared to her."_

_Emma shrugs her shoulders. "You know what? If that means that one day they forgive her and let go of their hatred of her, that's fine by me."_

"_You're still looking for her, aren't you?" Snow queries, looking up at her daughter with a curious expression in her eyes. _

"_I always will."_

"_Emma…"_

"_Let's not do this, okay? You know where I stand, and I know where you stand. I just…I hope that one day both of you will stand somewhere else so that I can bring my son's mother home."_

"_I don't think I ever will."_

"_Ever is a long time."_

_Snow shakes her head. "I just want you happy. Both you and Henry."_

"_It's what we want to. And David and I, we want you happy. And this job doesn't make you happy. You're not a queen anymore than Regina is. Not anymore."_

_Snow laughs. "Emma, you know better. She will always be the Queen."_

_Emma shrugs at that, but can't manage to suppress the smile that forms there._

"_Oh, Emma…that's, that's actually kind of…disturbing."_

"_Sorry. Are we done here? I could use a couple shots to help me forget about that meeting. And Henry should be getting home from his date soon."_

"_Yeah, we're done. Give Henry our love. And remember, be appropriate."_

"_I'm offended," Emma laughs. "It's not like I've given him the birds and bees talk."_

"_That's a…strange relief."_

_Yeah. Hey, if you need to talk about this job thing…"_

"_I know. And if you need to…"_

"_Don't offer what you can't give me. I want her home, but I'll never force you to pretend like you approve of what I feel for her. That's not fair to anyone."_

"_Thank you. I love you. You know that, right?"_

"_I do."_

_Snow nods, and then steps away, heading into her office with Charming right behind her. Emma's pretty sure that as she heads down the stairs, towards the door that years earlier had exploded open nearly killing both she and Regina, she hears her mother says once more, "That fucking woman."_

_And she laughs because she's pretty sure she no longer hears hatred or anger there, but rather exasperation and perhaps even an odd hint of respect._

* * *

It's amazing, actually. They're three hours into their drive back to Storybrooke, and both women are as close to nervous wrecks as they can possibly get, but Henry? Well he's dead out in the backseat of Regina's Lexus (the Benz, though given to her son as a present, only seats two), an arm slung over his eyes.

"He always did sleep heavy," Regina notes, glancing over her shoulder. She's riding shotgun – reluctantly – and is fidgeting like crazy. She's not used to being the passenger. It exposes her to a lack of control that even now she doesn't care much for. Some things never change. The need for control is one of them.

Still, there's a reason why she's not driving right now.

Might have something to do with wildly her shaking hands. The ones that have been trembling almost since the moment the three of them had exited the loft together. The fantastic breakfast they'd shared together is but a memory now.

Everything else is so much more vivid.

The past and all of its' frightening memories.

"Breathe," Emma says softly, and then reaches out and puts a hand over Regina's. "We're in this together." She squeezes, and then does it again.

"No offense, my dear, but it's not your neck on the actual line."

"Not yours either, Regina. No one is hurting you. If they even try, after I'm done kicking their asses, we'll turn around and leave. Curse or no curse."

"You better keep it down," the brunette says with a smile meant to hide the emotions surging through her – these ones much more positive than the fear that continues to shake her. "You'll wake our son up, and he'll lecture us again."

"He is persistent."

"And persuasive."

"Trust me, I know," Emma admits. "Why don't you close your eyes and try to get some rest. We'll still about an hour out."

"I don't want to dream," the brunette answers honestly. "Nightmares."

"Okay, then why don't you talk to me instead?"

"What about?"

"The last five years. Tell me everything you've been up to."

"You first, Sheriff."

* * *

The last hour of the drive back to Storybrooke goes by surprisingly fast thanks to the mutual exchange of stories. Both women stay clear of the more dramatic and emotional tales, those are ones for a time when they're able to lay in each other's arms and enjoy the peace of the night. Instead, they exchange light-hearted memories and tease each other over missteps and mild embarrassments.

It's easy, and comfortable and even rather fun, and Regina finds herself wondering how she could have ever walked away from a woman who makes her feel so much. Be it rage or joy, Emma has always made her feel something.

Which then again, she reminds herself, is exactly why she'd left.

Because this woman and Henry had meant everything to her.

That time has come and gone, though. It's time to face the past.

"Storybrooke," Henry says almost on cue, suddenly sitting up in the backseat, his always messy brown hair sticking up in several places. It takes everything Regina has not to reach out and pat it down or worse, lick her fingers and do so.

He's sixteen, she reminds herself. No longer a boy, but still her little man.

"Yep, we're home," Emma confirms, bringing the Lexus to a complete stop in front of the Welcome To Storybrooke sign. It's cracked and peeling, and though it's absurd, Regina finds herself annoyed at this.

This is her town, she thinks. How dare these morons allow it to fall into disarray?

"Who's the mayor now?" she asks, her tone discouraging questions.

"Believe it or not, Maid Marion," Emma chuckles. "Her approval rating is pretty piss poor. I don't see her going for a second term."

"Yes, well, she always was a loud-mouthed twit," Regina grumbles.

"Can we maybe focus on your control-freak nature later?" Emma suggests.

"Fine. What about my magic?"

"What? What about it?"

"You're wondering if you're going to get it back the moment we step into town, aren't you?" Henry inquires. "And you're worried you won't be able to control it."

"Yes, and yes. I presume magic still exists here."

"It does," Emma nods. "Remind me to tell you about Dopey trying to learn it."

Regina rolls her eyes. "Wonderful."

"It's less now," Henry tells her. "Magic is still here, but it's not like it was. You're going to be okay. I believe in you."

"I appreciate that more than you know," she says, blinking back tears. Then, pulling herself together, "So you believe that Emma and I can break the curse merely by kissing each other once we're inside the city limits, is that the plan here?" It sounds so clinical, and her voice is seeped in doubt.

She knows that she loves Emma, but she still doubts her heart, and it's ability to love true and selflessly no matter the sacrifices she has made.

She doubts her ability to actually be good enough for true love's kiss.

"No, it's not quite that easy," Henry chuckles. "There has to be an extreme amount of emotion on display for it to work. It can't just be any kind of kiss." And then he makes a face. "And I don't mean that like French kiss kind, you know."

"Got it. So how do you plan on making this great kiss happen?" Emma drawls.

"With a golden rope binding."

"What?" Regina snaps. "No."

"It'll work. I've done the research. I've –"

"I don't care. Absolutely not."

"Come on! Mom, you know it will work."

"Someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?" Emma demands, her eyes jumping between mother and son. They're both staring each other down, apparently choosing now to make up for five years of lost arguments.

"Our son has been speaking to Rumple a bit too much for my liking," Regina snaps out, but her eyes are still on Henry. She'd be proud of him for his devious resourcefulness if she wasn't so pissed off and worried.

"About what?"

"About the one thing all of us agree on now, dearie," an accented voice says. They turn to see Gold walking towards them, his hand wrapped around the head of his cane. He, of course, being who he is, hasn't aged a day, but clearly the stress of spending five years unable to get to his son has worn on him.

He looks tired. He's also, of course, completely on the Storybrooke side of the line, trapped there by the curse still. He taps the line with his cane and sighs.

"Welcome home, Your Majesty," he says with that damnable smirk. "It's been so terribly long since we've had the pleasure of seeing each other."

"Not nearly long enough," she grits out, her fists clenching at her sides. "What is it that you think we agree upon, you spiteful little imp?"

"The need to break the curse, of course," he answers. He then turns his attention towards Henry and chuckles coldly, "You've got quite the boy here. Not many would have the guts to stand up to me as he did. And not just once, but twice."

* * *

_Three Days Earlier._

"_I gave you the address," Gold reminds him as he stares the boy who is now pacing back and forth in front of him. "That was my part of the deal."_

"_And my part was to bring my mother home so she can break the curse, but we both know it's more complicated than that, don't we?" Henry challenges, turning to glare at Gold with a look of indignant disgust that is pure Regina. "A simple kiss isn't going to be enough to get it done, is it?"_

_Gold just smiles at him in response._

"_You're a dick, you know that."_

"_Such language, son."_

"_I'm not your son, I'm hers. I'm also the only way you're ever going to see your son," Henry growls as he leans over the desk, his eyes glittering. "Now, stop fucking around with me, and tell me what needs to happen once I have my mothers back here together. How do I get them to do True Love's Kiss?"_

"_Well," Gold shrugs, acting like he's supremely unimpressed with the tall boy in front of him. This isn't the Henry Mills of five years before. He still has a good heart and a righteous soul, but he's wiser now. He understands more._

_And he burns with the same kind of bold passion that Regina had when she'd been but a young girl. The difference is, Henry has had Emma to guide him._

_And protect him._

_Shame, really, because Gold can feel power leaping off this boy, too._

"_Well, what?"_

"_You could always maim one of them," Gold suggests with a knowing smirk. "That usually gets the other one to drop the kiss down. Did with you."_

"_Yeah, I'm thinking no. Next idea."_

_Gold suddenly grows very serious. "You could bind them."_

"_What's that mean?"_

"_It's a spiritual connection forged between two souls that share true love." Were it anyone else saying these words, they'd sound ridiculous, but despite all of Rumple's failings, he's actually quite the ambassador of the concept of true love._

"_Like marriage? Because I don't think my mother – after what she went through back in the old world – would ever agree to marry again."_

"_Hmm. She did have a rough time of it, didn't she?" Gold taunts, and he gets what he wants; the boy's jaw clenches and anger floods him._

_For a moment, he wonders about just how hard it would be to corrupt Henry Mills. He really has no reason to do so beyond it being moderately fun._

_And a way to piss off the protégé he still detests._

_But then again, there's Emma._

_And he has a vague idea that were Henry actually in danger of being corrupted, nothing in this world or any other could keep Regina from returning to protect her child. Gold isn't afraid of the Queen, but perhaps – knowing exactly what he'd done to find Bae – he's just a little bit apprehensive of the Mother._

"_What does it mean?" Henry repeats._

"_No, no, it's not marriage," Gold tells him. "Not exactly. It's much much deeper than even that, actually. It's a connection between souls. It's…perfect harmony."_

"_Harmony sounds like a good thing. So what's the drawback?"_

"_Good question. The Queen has a very damaged soul. It's seldom wise to anchor another one so broken. It can only end badly for both…lovers."_

"_Bad, how?"_

"_Death."_

"_You're telling me this binding means if one dies, the other ones?"_

"_It's not quite so dramatic," Gold chuckles, but then his expression morphs to one far uglier. "It means that when one heart breaks or hurts, the other does. It means that when one feels pain beyond words, the other does. And when you consider what is in the Queen's corrupted heart, are you really willing to put Miss Swan through that kind of hell?" He shakes his head. "I think not."_

"_I think maybe you don't understand either of my mothers at all. You certainly don't understand…the Queen" Henry leans in then, "And that's a good thing. Now, you'd best find the whatever it is I need to help my mothers do this binding, and then get ready to watch the rest of your curse break."_

* * *

"Are you serious?" Emma asks, eyes wide as she looks from face to face. Henry is smiling widely, Gold is smirking, but it's Regina who looks truly horrified.

"No, he's not," Regina says immediately. "We're not doing this."

"Then the curse doesn't break," Gold tells them. "And I was promised a curse breaking as payment for my services." He looks over at Henry when he says this.

"You really are a dick," Emma growls.

"I see where he gets his lack of manners from," Gold sighs, then looks right at Regina. "Your boy is wonderfully brave, Your Majesty, but even that won't keep me from collecting a different form of payment if you two refuse to pay up now."

"You even think about touching my son, Gold, and I will rip you apart until you're nothing but blood and guts under my boot," Regina growls, taking a step towards her old teacher. She can feel magic lurking on the other side of the line, and though the thought is absurd, she's willing to tackle Gold across the city limits if that's what she needs to do to take him down.

He laughs. "I'd never hurt the boy, Regina. You know that."

"Enough," Emma says, stepping between them. "No more threats. What do we need to do to make this binding thing break the curse?"

"Simple really. You step across the line to where I am and you tie this –" he holds up what appears to be a simple thick golden rope – "around both of your wrists. Magic and what's inside of your hearts and souls will do everything else. That is, of course, assuming it actually works. If it does work, if Regina is actually your True Love, Miss Swan, then the curse will break." He twirls his hand for flair.

"Emma, no," Regina protests, grabbing her arm. "You don't understand."

"Then explain this to me because you are freaking out like I just got down on bended knee, and while that I can understand, this I don't. What's wrong?"

"You don't want your soul tied to mine," Regina tells her. "I will destroy you."

"You've told me that before. In fact, on the first night we met. And yet here I am."

"This is different."

"How?"

"Because my soul isn't like yours. It's not good. It's…"

"Ugly?"

"Yes." Regina swallows hard. "Yes."

"I don't care. I never have."

"Emma, please…" she steps over to the blonde and places a hand on either side of the sheriff's face. "Please, for once, listen to me. You don't want this."

Neither one of them seems to notice that they still have an audience. Neither seems to see the twin smiles that Gold and Henry are wearing. Of course, the intent behind the expressions are far different, but both see victory at hand.

"I want you home," Emma tells her, and then lifts up a hand to touch the skin of Regina's jaw, running a thumb across olive colored flesh.

"I know, but we don't have to do this. We can go back to Boston, and we can be very happy like we should have been for the last five years." She's desperate now, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please."

"I love you, Regina. Do you love me?"

The brunette closes her eyes. "Yes."

"Then give me your hand, and let's do this. Together."

Regina opens her eyes and looks at Gold, snarling as she says to him, "You've done a thousand horrible things to me, but I will never forgive you for this."

"This, Regina? It seems to me that this is the one thing I can't be blamed for. If the Sheriff gets hurt by what's inside of you, well that's all on you, dearie."

"Yeah, well, the Sheriff has no intention of getting hurt," Emma retorts. "Throw me the goddamned rope, Gold and shut up." Before Gold can respond, Emma looks over at the former queen, and offers her a warm smile. "Trust me."

"It's not you I don't trust."

"Then trust us. Trust our son who believes in both of us."

"She's right, Mom," Henry shrugs. "I want my family back." He steps across the line to Gold, takes the rope from him and holds it up. "I want you back."

Slowly, unable to continue resisting even though she knows that she probably should, Regina nods. She puts out her left hand, watching as Emma extends her right. Henry approaches both of them, his smile growing in a way that is utterly child-like and yet somehow strangely mature far beyond his years. He takes the rope and winds it around their wrists, giving it a hard tug as he ties it.

"Here we go," he says with a look that reminds Emma of the first time she'd met him, back in that little Boston loft. So very hopeful.

A moment later, though, the look fades and confusion takes its place.

"It's not doing anything," Henry states, anger peppering his tone. Instinctively, both of his mothers reach out to touch him and calm him.

"That's because they have to cross the line back into Storybrooke," Gold chuckles, like he's talking to a stupid child. "No magic out there, and no matter how strong your hearts may be, the binding still needs actual old magic."

The two women exchange a humorless somewhat exhausted look, slide their hands together, and then step together across the painted line.

Almost immediately, they both feel it.

It starts out warm and like they've been surrounded by overwhelmingly large and fluffy blankets. It's a bit suffocating, but also strangely comfortable.

And then the memories start to rush back and forth, like a stream passing water up and down, over the rocks and past all obstacles.

It's emotions beyond all invented words. It's the pounding of a hundred heartbeats in sync. It's screaming and pain, and the sound of childbirth. It's laughter and the smell of fresh cut grass on a warm summer evening. It's tears and heartbreak and loneliness. It's love and comfort and sudden happiness.

It's the feeling of arms wrapped tight, and soft kisses along warm flesh.

It's I love you said a thousand times, and in a hundred different ways.

It's absolute peace and complete harmony.

Apparently, True Love's Kiss doesn't actually require a kiss because thirty seconds after they step across the line, a burst of light tears through both of them. It would have knocked them both back had they not been connected together by the golden rope (which they both note is actually glowing now).

"It worked," Henry says, sounding almost breathless. He watches then as Gold steps towards the line, the look on his face no longer twisted, but rather curious and hopeful. And maybe just a little bit scared as well.

A moment later, Gold is over the line, on the opposite side, and looking at Henry with something like amazement in his eyes. "You did it," he tells Henry.

"Then our business is done. Your business with my family is done." His words are harsh, but his tone isn't. Just one more thing to put into the past.

"Indeed it is," Gold nods, and then steps back across the line and walks past Regina and Emma, who are both simply staring at each other, as if in a trance.

Henry watches him go, and thinks that very soon, Rumple won't be heard from again. At least not for a very long time.

It's the sight of his moms still staring at each other that brings Henry abruptly back to the here and now. "Mom? Ma?" he calls out, moving towards them. He places a hand on each of their shoulders. "Are you guys okay?"

"Are you?" Emma asks after a few long seconds, looking at Regina, eyes wide.

"Now I am," the brunette answers, and then moves in as if for a kiss.

"Yeah, hold off on that. My parents just arrived."

"Lovely."

The former queen turns then, as if to face the newcomers, but before she can move even as much as an inch, Emma's pulling her back, wrapping her arms tight around her and whispering into her ear, "I love you. We're in this together."

It's borrowed strength, but it's enough for this.

"Emma? We saw the blast of energy. What's going on here?" Snow demands. Then, seeing who her daughter is with. "Regina?"

"Snow," Regina greets, and somehow manages not to sound disdainful. In fact, she's a bit surprised by just how muted her normal feelings towards the woman are. Normally, she'd feel rage and hatred, but all of this is quiet now.

She feels peaceful.

"What happened?" Snow asks once more.

"They broke the curse," Henry announces. "Everyone in this town can now come and go as they please. My moms broke the curse."

"The two of you?" Charming asks, but he doesn't seem all that shocked to be honest. Five years ago, he'd known about this love affair and for five years since, he's watched his daughter fight like hell – like he would have for Snow – to bring Regina back home. "With True Love's Kiss?"

"Us," Emma confirms, then shrugs, because it's kind of crazy when she stops to think about the fact that she's now broken two curses. Sure, they were two parts of the same, but still, it's not exactly normal or sane. But none of this is. "But no, not with a kiss. Not exactly anyway." She chooses not to elaborate for the time being, but knows that eventually, she'll be pushed to.

Everyone will want answers eventually.

"So you're back then," Snow says, her own tone even. She sees Emma tense, but Regina pats the blonde on the arm, as if to calm her. And it works.

"I am and…and I seek forgiveness," Regina states, adopting the most submissive tone that she can manage (which isn't much to be honest, but Snow recognizes the effort at least). In any case, this is a conversation more suited for their land than this one, but she and Snow understand what this is actually about.

This is about Emma. And love. And family.

And yes, finally, forgiveness. Perhaps for both of them.

"You seek a pardon?" Charming inquires, and his words sound dumb, and yet terribly accurate. She seeks not absolution, but the chance for redemption.

"I do. And if it is your judgment that I have not suffered enough, then I will pay whatever penance is decided upon by you as long as it's not my life or…them."

"I agree to your terms," Snow says. And it's a bit strange how fast she allows it, but then Regina remembers what Emma and Henry had told her about everyone changing, about everyone seeing the reality of their situations.

And about how Snow had returned to teaching.

"So, we can go home now?" Emma asks, sounding a bit like Henry.

"Yeah," Charming nods. "I think it's time."

* * *

"He's sleeping again," Regina notes, watching her son doze on his mattress from the doorway of his bedroom. They're back at Emma's apartment now. Everything is quiet, but they know that come morning, there will be a lot of questions.

And emotions. Some of them likely very dark.

"The last two days," Emma says with a chuckle and shake of her head.

"Yeah. You know tomorrow will be hard."

"We can deal. You and me."

"That used to drive me insane about you," Regina tells her. "How stubborn and confident you were, almost always without reason."

"And now?"

"Now I suppose I realize how much I actually like that."

"Aww."

Regina rolls her eyes. "I'm hungry, Miss Swan," she says then.

"Is that a euphemism or do you want some crackers?"

"Are crackers a euphemism?"

"Possibly," Emma grins, stepping forward to wrap her lover in her arms. "So this binding thing we did, does it mean something like when you feel extreme emotion, I will as well?" Her tone is as sexually suggestive as she can manage without it actually being vaguely creepy.

"No, dear, it doesn't actually mean that sex will be more intense," Regina answers. "Sometimes I wonder if you're a fifteen year old boy."

"Don't have the equipment for that."

"Well that's a relief at least," Regina answers, then leans up and presses her lips to Emma's, holding the contact there for a long moment. "I missed you."

It's far from the first time she's said that over the last two days, but somehow, this time, the words sound a whole lot like "and it's time to do something about it."

So they do.

Thankfully, these walls aren't thin.

* * *

"After I move all of my things out, I think I'm going to give Judo the loft," Regina says suddenly, breaking up almost fifteen minutes of pleasurable post-coital silence and calm. She's lying wrapped up in Emma's strong arms, her hand covering one of Emma's, fingers lightly stroking hard knuckles.

"You don't want to keep it? For the sake of all the fun memories?"

"Not sure what fun memories you mean, but the only ones I want are here."

"Okay. I'm cool with it. Will that make you feel better about leaving him?"

"I don't plan to completely leave Judo's life. He still needs someone to remind him to eat his vegetables from time to time," Regina chuckles, and Emma wonders how this woman could have ever been the Evil Queen.

But then the gold bracelet on Regina's wrist – a compromise between she and Snow that's meant more to calm the people who they'll have to deal with in the morning than to actually keep her from using magic that she actually has no desire to use – reminds her of everything.

This has always worked between them because she's always known who her lover was, and what she'd done. She's always recognized an imperfect soul.

And had hers recognized in response.

"What are you thinking about?" Regina asks.

"Your boobs."

"Haven't you touched those enough for one night?"

"Hardly," the blonde snorts. "I'm just taking a few minutes to catch my breath. But no, actually I was thinking about your Queen boobs."

"As in…"

"When you had them up to your eyeballs."

"Ah. Why?"

"Just the different paths we travel, I guess. Thinking about you as the Evil Queen and me as the Savior, and the things we've both done to surive."

Regina turns in her arms. "You're not regretting the binding already are you?"

"No, not at all. I didn't regret it then. You were the one who tried to stop it."

"I was trying to protect you from who I am."

"Well stop doing that, too. I'm the White Knight. Let me do the protecting."

"I'm serious, Emma. I still have all of that anger within me. I'm still capable of things that are unimaginable to most people. I always will be."

"I know, and you know what? So am I. But I don't think you need protection from me, and I sure as hell don't need any more protection from you. We lost five years to you protecting me. Enough of that. Time for us to be in this together."

"Fine."

"Fine? That's all you're going to say?"

"Mm. I'd say more but your hand has apparently decided that the breather you needed is now over." She motions down towards her chest, indicating to the palm that is now lightly squeezing one of her breasts, fingers almost lazily tweaking.

Emma grins. "So it has."

And with that, she rolls her brunette lover onto her back, and kisses her again.

* * *

The former queen is wrapped in a bright green terrycloth bathrobe now. Certainly not her preference, but comfortable enough absent her usual silk robes.

"You don't have to stand in the doorway," Henry tells her, and he's looking up at her with a small almost shy smile on his face.

"Sorry," she says before stepping into the room. "I just…"

"I know." He motions her over. "I'm tired," he says.

"Then I'll let you…"

"Will you stay with me?" he asks.

"Until you fall asleep."

"Until I wake up and know you're still here." He sounds so young, so much like the boy she remembers as opposed to the teenager who'd gone up against one of the greatest powers in the world in order to reunite his mothers.

"Always," she tells him, and then curls onto the bed beside him. He puts his head back against her chest, and she thinks that maybe they both sigh in unison.

When he finally drops off to sleep, she takes a moment to look up, and isn't a bit surprised to see Emma standing in the doorway, a cup of coffee in her hands.

"I felt that," Emma says.

"What?"

"Your happiness. I guess I needed to see it."

"I'm happy," Regina confirms. She holds out her hand.

"Mom sandwich?" Emma asks with entirely too much of a cheesy grin.

"Just come over here," Regina insists, wriggling her hand.

"You know the last time you held out your hand to me…"

"I'm not going anywhere this time. You can stay here and make sure of that as well if you'd like." She wraps her hand around Emma and pulls her to the bed.

"Mom sandwich it is."

And with that, she crawls onto the other side of Henry.

"Just don't grope each other over me," Henry grumbles into his pillow.

"You really have been a bad influence on him," Regina admonishes.

"He found you."

"Yes, he did."

**-Fin**


End file.
